


A Good Ketch

by Softlybutch



Series: A Good Ketch [1]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Boats, F/F, Fluff, Gay!Beech, Modern AU, NB!Tib, Sailing AU, Smut, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Softlybutch/pseuds/Softlybutch
Summary: Modern AU. Anne Lister is the captain of a local historic sailboat. What happens when Ann Walker goes out on a sail?I mean, you know. They bone. [insert B99 gif]Hopefully a cute, fluffy, smutty bit of fun. Medium burn? They shag in chapter 3, I know that’s what you really want to know.On a wee hiatus as of March 2021, hoping to be back soon!
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Series: A Good Ketch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070501
Comments: 121
Kudos: 157





	1. Ideal Conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an American, it deeply pains me to refer to a traditional sailing ship as a ‘yacht,’ but I strive for authenticity. In so much as I can with language, anyway, I’m sure American tall ship culture is very unique, but it’s all I know.
> 
> Also apologies in advance for any overly technical boat stuff, I'm just obsessed with my job and how cool it is, ok?

SY _Shibden_ Crew

Captain: _Anne Lister_

First Officer/Bosun: _Sam Washington_

Second Officer/Mechanic: _John Booth_

Third Officer/Safety: _Marian Lister_

Chef: _Beth Cordingly_

Sr. Deckhand: _Rachel Hemingway_

Deckhand: _Joe Booth_

Deckhand: _Eugénie Pierre_

Deckhand: _Tom Beech_

Boat dog: _Argus_

* * *

**Prologue: A Fun Diversion**

“Captain Lister, here for the _Shibden_ ’s coffee order,” Anne flashed a smile at the barista and not-so-subtly looked her up and down. She was cute. Young. Her fair hair was pulled back in a half ponytail and an adorable smattering of freckles dotted her face. The badge on her apron informed Anne that they had the same name, though hers was without an E. _Surely a little flirting wouldn’t hurt._

“Oh! Yes, just a moment,” Ann blushed at the dashing captain’s attention and ducked into the back room.

Anne grinned to herself and glanced around the bustling coffee shop.

Crow Nest Coffee, once just a small local roasters, was becoming more and more popular every year. There were three of the cafés in town, and more were opening up in neighbouring cities. The relaxed atmosphere in historic buildings, freshly baked pastries, local craft beers, and damned fine coffee easily made Crow Nest the best café chain around.

Anne Lister, captain of a local historic sailboat, had sought sponsorship from the Walker family, who owned the roasters, some sixteen years prior. Since then, the sailing yacht _Shibden_ received a box of coffee and tea every month in exchange for flying the Crow Nest flag and taking employees out on an annual sail.

Ann returned, struggling under the weight of a box nearly as big as she was. She hefted it onto the counter with a grunt. “There you are, Captain,” she panted. “On the house, as always.” She was short of breath, partly due to the weight of the box, and partly due to how Captain Lister was looking at her. As though she, and not the coffee, were what Anne wanted.

“Thank you very much, Miss…?” Anne allowed her to offer her name, despite having noted it on her badge.

“Oh, I’m Ann,” she replied, holding out her hand, which Anne took in a firm shake.

“Ann, a name we share,” she said as she withdrew her hand. “Tell me, are you new? I’m sure I would have remembered such a pretty face as yours working here before.” Anne held her gaze, a dazzling smile adorning her face.

“Oh, Lord.” Ann blushed crimson. “Erm, I’m usually on the more administrative side of things, but, well. You see, our usual manager is on holiday and I offered to cover for him. While he’s gone. So I could get more experience in the café. It’s only for a week, but, er, yes,” she paused, realising that she had begun to ramble. “That’s why I’m here.”

Anne’s smile didn’t falter. She enjoyed the effect she was having on the girl. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance. I do hope to see you again some time, perhaps at the Crow Nest employee sail next month?”

“Oh, I would love to go!” Ann’s face lit up. “Circumstances in the past have, unfortunately, prevented me from attending, but I’m free this year.”

“Good. _Good_. I look forward to seeing you then.” Anne lifted the large box easily, the muscles in her forearms tensing under her rolled up sleeves. “Have a lovely day, Ann.”

Ann smiled back, biting her bottom lip as she took in the captain’s tan and muscular arms. “Thank you, you as well.”

Anne nodded, turned on her heel, and strode out of the café.

 _What a fun diversion_ , she thought as she placed the box in the passenger seat of her Jeep. She shut the door, musing on the interaction as she went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. 

The girl was obviously smitten with her. She turned the key in the ignition, the engine sputtering to life. She could certainly impress her on the sail, she thought, as she pulled out of the car park and onto the road back toward the port. And Anne could do with a distraction after her last breakup. 

In command of the _Shibden_ , Anne was in her element. She had been sailing aboard the ketch since she was a child, working her way up the ranks, gaining experience on other ships, and eventually taking command from her uncle when he retired.

There was a certain romanticism about life at sea that never failed to seduce landspeople. At least, initially. The reality of it was often not so idyllic. The work was hard. Stressful. Dirty. Dangerous. And it didn’t pay very well. But Anne wouldn’t trade it for the world. To feel the power of a ship under full sail in a good breeze, the waves crashing over the bow and the rigging humming in the wind. That made up for all the aches and pains, scrapes and bruises, and utter exhaustion that made up the majority of the life.

Yes, she would make up to this barista. She would continue the flirtation on the sail. Then, perhaps, they would indulge in a few drinks afterward. It would not be uncommon. The crew often hit it off with the young, hip coffee shop workers who were quite the change from their usual older and snobbier clientele. Maybe a tour of the boat would lead little Ann to her cabin. After all, what was the point of being the only crew member with a door without an excuse to use it?

* * *

**Chapter 1: Ideal Conditions**

Anne’s weeks passed as they always did in the summer. Sails with the public interspersed with mind-numbing time in the office completing paperwork, organising the budget, applying for grants, arguing with the board that _no_ , she couldn’t attend this event in this port because the water wasn’t deep enough for _Shibden_ ’s draught, even at high tide and even if they offered more money.

Her office was small, hardly more than a broom cupboard, situated in the museum that the _Shibden_ operated from. She often felt anxious and cooped up in there. Especially on days like this one, with a glorious blue sky, perfect cumulus clouds, and finally a decent breeze after several windless days.

Anne huffed as she clicked through her emails. They were mostly whiny requests from board members asking inane questions that they wouldn’t need to ask if any one of them chose to spend time on the boat. What she wouldn’t give to be out from under their thumbs and own the _Shibden_ herself. But boats were expensive. And the board of wealthy elites was a necessary evil if she wanted to keep sailing.

She clicked open an email from the museum admissions department that had just come through. It was the passenger manifest for the Crow Nest employee sail that evening. She sent it to the printer and leaned back in her chair, fingers laced behind her head, her mind wandering to that barista. She wondered, briefly, if she had misread it. _No, surely not._ The girl had been positively melting at Anne’s words. And the way she had looked at her arms… No, she would succeed with her.

The printer whirred and spat out the list of names, email addresses, and phone numbers of everyone attending the evening’s sail. Anne had, on occasion, been known to look through a day’s manifest for the contact information of a particularly attractive passenger. An innocent inquiry might lead to a less than innocent meeting, which might in turn lead to a not at all innocent visit to the woman-in-question’s bedroom. Anne smirked as she scanned the list of names. Her eyebrows rose when she found Ann’s near the end.

 _Well well well._ Ann _Walker_. There could be no mistaking it. There were no other Anns on the list. The sole owner of the coffee company after the tragic passing of her parents years ago. Yes, this could do quite nicely for Captain Lister. Perhaps she could secure an improved coffee deal. Getting the seasonal blends rather than the leftovers from the past season. Maybe discounts for the crew at the cafés. And, if she played her cards right, she might be able to finally squeeze out from under the board’s control.

Anne checked her watch—forty minutes until the sail. Time to get ready. She exited her office, locking the door behind her, and marched down the hall of the museum, the manifest clutched in her hand. As she emerged from the museum’s side door, she ran into Sam Washington, her First Officer, probably on his way to the shore head.

“Ah, good, Washington,” she greeted. “How was maintenance this afternoon?”

“Oh, very good, Captain. John changed the fuel filters, Marian and Rachel got started on the monthly safety inspection, and I had Joe, Eugenie, and Tom tarring the headrig and main shrouds. They’re all cleaned up now and are just sitting down to tea.”

“Perfect, thank you, Washington. Well done,” Anne said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Captain,” Sam nodded and continued through the door to the museum.

Anne walked down the pier to where she could see the _Shibden_ gently bobbing against her dock. She was old, that was sure. An historic fishing ketch from the turn of the last century. She’d been rebuilt many times over the years, but she kept on going.

The Lister family had worked on the _Shibden_ since the beginning. Initially, they had owned her, the whole family running their own fishing business. But they fell on hard times after the second world war. The men had died in combat, and the women couldn’t operate the business on their own, so they sold her. The new owners converted the boat from a trawler (no longer as lucrative under sail as engines improved over the years) to a tour boat, adding a small engine, neglecting her rigging, and taking wealthy passengers out for sunset cruises.

But the young Lister boys, Anne’s uncle and father, grew up, and went to work aboard the _Shibden_ in their twenties. Her father wasn’t quite cut out for a life at sea, but her uncle thrived, eventually becoming the captain, restoring the boat’s rigging, and often bringing his brother’s children out sailing with him. Anne was so proud of her little ketch and everything she represented. And she wanted nothing more than to own her again, as her great grandparents had.

She looked over the boat as she descended the ramp from the pier to the floating dock. Washington was certainly doing a good job as her bosun. The hull had been freshly painted black over the last week, the brightwork shone in the afternoon sun, and the brass gleamed from daily polishing. Not even the keenest eye would know she was over one hundred years old. 

The captain navigated the oscillating gangway and stepped onto the gently bobbing boat with practiced ease. “Argus,” she greeted as she stretched over her lump of a boat dog who was dozing, as he was wont to do, at the base of the gangway. She could hear the chatter of the crew in the galley and descended the ladder into the compartment.

“Anne, you’ve missed your tea!”

Indeed, Marian was holding a broom, and the rest of the crew bustled about the space putting leftovers away and wiping down tables.

“It’s Captain during work hours, Marian. And I never eat a meal before a sail, Cordingly knows that,” Anne nodded at Beth, the cook, who was scrubbing at dishes in the galley sink.

“Aye aye, _Captain_ ,” Marian rolled her eyes, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Anne glared at her. She daily—if not hourly—regretted letting her sister of all people work on her crew. But they were short a safety officer that year and, as much as Anne was loath to admit it, Marian was good at organising and maintaining safety equipment. Even if she was a pain in her neck. Anne plucked an apple from a net hanging over the table and stomped back up the ladder onto deck. 

She took a bite out of the apple and checked her watch: 18:28. Thirty-two minutes until the sail. She glanced around her at the sea and sky. There was a gentle offshore breeze, about ten knots, pushing her onto the dock. She would have to use the after spring line to get the stern out, then back up out of the slip. Nothing she hadn’t done a thousand times before. 

Nodding to herself, Anne turned and entered the pilot house. The deckhouse was fairly sparse, with a chart table to one side, her cabin at the other, a settee and table against the forward bulkhead, and a small head opposite that.

She deposited the passenger manifest on the chart table, affixing it to its clipboard, and studied the navigation computer. The chart plotter showed some traffic in the vicinity, but nothing commercial heading for the harbour entrance. She clicked to the weather application, opening up the local marine forecast. The wind was to remain ten knots from the west for the rest of the day. Not a bad swell either: also from the west and rather a long period. No rain on the radar. And—she checked the logbook—the barometer had been holding steady at 1024 millibars all day. _Perfect_. 

These were ideal conditions to engage in a little seduction. The sea state was low enough to not make passengers (or herself) sick, and the wind strong enough to actually move the _Shibden_ rather than drifting aimlessly in a calm. And, to top it all off, there was enough scattered cloud cover to make for a surely spectacular sunset. All she had to do was be her usual charming self and Ann Walker would be hers.

Anne grinned and smacked the chart table triumphantly with the palm of her hand. She then busied herself with preparations to sail: performing radio checks, turning on navigational equipment, and testing the steering gear. By then the crew were emerging from the galley and hurrying about the boat to get everything ready. They flaked out sheets, removed sail ties, and closed up compartments. Marian ushered a dozy Argus into the galley to sleep at Beth’s feet for the duration of the sail.

“John!” Anne called for her engineer. She usually preferred to use surnames for her crew, but John Booth had brought his younger brother, Joe, on for the season, and it was simpler to use their Christian names to differentiate the two.

“Aye, Cap?” John approached from forward, tugging at the collar of his uniform shirt.

“Is the engine ready to be started?” She inquired.

“Ah, yes, Cap’n, she’s good to go,” he confirmed, nodding his head.

Anne dismissed him with a, “Very good,” and knelt to key the ignition and start the engine.

A low rumbling filled the air as the engine came to life. The captain looked over the port side to ensure the exhaust water was pumping before putting the engine in and out of gear to check the propulsion. With everything functioning properly, she entered the pilot house and jotted down the engine start time in the logbook. Anne snatched up the passenger manifest on her way out of the compartment and looked around for the nearest deckhand.

“Joseph!” she called.

“Y-yes, Captain?” Joe Booth stumbled over, hurriedly tucking his uniform shirt into his trousers.

She thrust the manifest at his chest. “Start checking in passengers, will you?” She looked him up and down disdainfully. “Once you’ve put yourself together.”

“Yes, of course, Captain.” He grasped at the clipboard and scrambled up to the pier where passengers were beginning to assemble. 

Anne surreptitiously eyed the crowd of coffee shop hipsters until she spotted her. Ann Walker stood shyly to the side, glancing nervously around her. Her hair was in a braid, and she wore jeans with a pink blouse and a simple cardigan. She looked stunning. Anne felt a pang of desire as she noted how sensibly Ann had dressed. Often passengers took the idea of being on a boat as an excuse to wear “nautical chic” clothing, which was preposterously a lot of white. _White_ , which got filthy on a working sailboat that was invariably covered in tar. 

That was partly why Anne insisted on black shirts as uniform for her crew. Polos for the deckhands and nicer button-downs for herself and the other officers, all embroidered with the _Shibden_ ’s logo on the left breast. The crew were constantly complaining about wearing black during the height of summer, but Anne argued that they couldn’t look unprofessionally dirty if the dirt didn’t show. Plus, she liked the black. She’d gotten used to wearing black ever since—well. Best not think of that.

As the crew finished up their tasks, they congregated midships and chatted with one another. Anne took Washington aside and talked him through the plan for getting underway and the order of sails to set. Before long, it was 18:45. Time to board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first ever fanfiction, and I appreciate any constructive criticism! I'm trying very hard to keep the narrative as English as possible, so if you notice anything that sounds particularly American and out of place, please let me know and I shall endeavour (see what I did there?) to fix it. 
> 
> I've elected not to set the story in any particular place, as I would absolutely bog myself down in geographical research. However, if you can think of a Halifax-like town on either coast in the North that sounds like this place I've made up, let me know and I _will_ bog myself down in geographical research!
> 
> Will attempt roughly weekly updates with no particular day/time. Hopefully I have enough of a headstart to keep to that.
> 
> Cheers!


	2. Sailor's Delight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D-slur, 9th line from the end. Just a wee bit of drama in an otherwise flirty fluffy chapter.

Anne clapped Washington on the shoulder and said, “Boarding stations,” before she leapt onto the gangway and strode toward the edge of the gathered crowd.

“Good evening, everyone!” The assembled group fell silent as they turned to listen to the captain commanding their attention. “I’m Captain Anne Lister, and I’d like to welcome you aboard the _Shibden_ for this evening’s sail.”

Ann was gazing at her as she spoke in what could only be described as pure adoration.

Anne smirked and met her eyes. “And I’d like to _personally_ thank you for Crow Nest’s most generous sponsorship. My crew and I certainly enjoy waking up to a cup of the best damn coffee around, and I hope you will enjoy what will surely be a most pleasurable sail. Now, you are welcome to follow me aboard, I just ask for two people at a time on the ramp. You will cross the deck and gather around my third officer for a safety orientation while we get underway.”

With that, she turned and led the group on board. Anne diverted to the quarterdeck while her deckhands directed the chattering passengers toward Marian, who was standing near the bow and holding a bright orange life jacket.

Getting underway went as smoothly as it ever did. Anne sprung the stern out using the after spring line and backed out of the narrow slip with ease. Her weathered hands caressed the spokes of the wheel as she manoeuvred through the nearby anchorage and into the open harbour. Once Marian had finished up her safety speech, the passengers milled about the boat, chatting excitedly and pulling out packed snacks and drinks.

Washington stood smartly at Anne's side, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting his captain’s next command.

“All right, Washington, let’s get some canvas up, hmm? Port tack,” she ordered after a quick glance aloft at the flags fluttering in the breeze.

“Aye, Captain.” Sam nodded before walking forward and bellowing, “Hands to set the mains’l!”

The rest of the crew repeated the command as they scurried about to ready the appropriate lines. Each crew member sounded off their readiness, then Washington gave the order to haul away. Calloused hands grasped their lines and pulled in unison. The neatly folded canvas rose steadily into the air before stretching taught. At Washington’s orders, the crew carried on to set the remaining sails.

The passengers watched in awe as thick canvas filled the sky. Some of the brave ones even joined in with the crew and received souvenir blisters for their trouble. Anne could observe the whole process from her station at the helm. She noted Washington’s practiced eye calling the perfect set and trim of the sails, and rolled her eyes at Joseph who had tripped over a turning block that had always been in that same spot on the deck.

She could also see the smiling crowd of chattering guests who clutched beers or bags of crisps and laughed with each other as the _Shibden_ gathered speed. And she saw Ann, who was then in conversation with another passenger. Occasionally, Ann would glance back toward the captain, only to blush and avert her gaze when their eyes met. 

When the last of the jibs was set, Anne turned off the engine. The loud rumble died away and a hush descended over the boat as guests paused their conversations to appreciate the silence. It was relaxing, away from the bustle of the land. The only sounds were the slap of the waves against the hull, the cries of sea birds, and the light hum of the wind in the rigging. A moment’s peace ensued, but soon the chatter of the crowd built back up.

Whoever Ann was talking to had noticed her furtive glances as well. She looked back at the captain too, then nudged Ann with her elbow until she relented and began walking—only slightly unsteadily in the gentle roll—to the quarterdeck. Anne grinned to herself. She must remember to thank this perceptive friend.

“Hello, Captain Lister,” came Ann’s timid voice as she approached.

“Ah, Ann. What a pleasure it is to see you again.” The captain took in Ann’s figure—no longer on a distant dock or behind a counter—and licked her lips.

“And you as well.” Ann blushed.

“Are you enjoying the sail thus far?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Ann exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I’ve never been sailing before, but it’s absolutely marvelous. How the sails can make the ship move through the water so. And seeing the crew work. It looks awfully hard.”

“Hmm, it is,” Anne nodded. “But so worth it, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, certainly,” Ann beamed. 

“Would you like to steer?” Anne gestured at the wheel she held with one hand.

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’m sure I’d mess it up.”

“Nonsense, it’s quite easy. Here,” the captain stepped away from the helm and motioned for Ann to take her spot.

Ann gingerly stepped up to the side of the wheel box and grasped the spokes of the wheel as she had seen Anne do. She glanced nervously at the captain. “What do I do now?”

“Now, you’re going to take a look ahead of you.” Anne edged closer as she instructed, gently placing her hand on the small of Ann’s back and gesturing ahead of them with the other. “We want to stay heading in this direction. You can line up the rigging with a spot on the land or the waves on the sea or the clouds in the sky. We don't bother with the compass so close to land, it'll only distract you. You see how the bow is starting to move to the left?” 

Ann nodded, her brow knit in concentration.

“You can turn a bit to the right to correct it.” Anne covered Ann’s hand with her own and guided her to push the spoke to starboard. She leaned in over Ann’s shoulder, her lips brushing against the shell of Ann’s ear. “It’s a gradual change.”

Gooseflesh rose along Ann’s neck. She attempted to focus on the words the captain was saying rather than the feelings she was evoking.

“She won’t react right away. Once you notice her start to turn,” she guided Ann’s hand again, “you can bring the wheel back to centre,” easing the wheel back, “to steady up on your course. A ship’s like a woman… responds to touch.”

“Oh,” Ann breathed as her face coloured.

Despite the ample distraction, Ann was able to notice the bow start to swing to port again, and gave the wheel a tentative push to the right, glancing at Anne nervously. The captain's face lit up in the purest smile. 

“That’s it! You’re already succeeding more than most people who try,” she beamed. “You’re facing the right direction for one.”

Ann looked at her in confusion. “Well, that’s the direction we’re going, isn't it?”

“Mm, it is. But most people get thrown by the box around the steering gear. They think the helm is facing backwards,” she scoffed, “and stand directly in front of it to face the stern. As if they’re in one of those ridiculous pirate films.”

Ann chuckled, relaxing slightly at the captain’s confidence in her abilities. 

“Would you like to turn her around?” Anne asked.

“Oh, no,” Ann shook her head, “I think I’d rather leave that to the professional,” she met Anne’s eyes and smiled softly. 

“Very well, then.” Anne stepped in to take the helm back, her free hand lingering on the small of Ann’s back. “Shall I explain what’s happening as we turn?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Ann nodded eagerly.

“Washington,” Anne addressed her first officer, who was standing a respectable distance away on the quarterdeck, eyes trained forward to give the captain as much privacy as one could have on a 30 metre boat. “Ready about.”

Relief washed over his face at being able to step away from the quarterdeck and his captain’s _very_ obvious flirting, if only for a moment. Sam replied, “Aye, Captain,” and walked briskly forward, calling out, “Ready about!”

The crew echoed the command—Joe spluttering his out a bit later than everyone else as he hastily swallowed a gulp of water—and raced to their stations.

“Now, you’ll see,” the captain spoke to Ann, “the crew will make ready all of the sheets, which are the lines that control the side-to-side position of the sails. When they’re ready, Washington will let me know.”

“Ready forward,” came Washington’s cry.

“Ready forward, helm’s alee!” Anne called as she spun the wheel rapidly to the left until it could turn no further, her biceps flexing with the effort. “So now,” she turned her attention back to Ann, whose mouth was agape, “I’ve turned the helm hard over to start the turn. At the same time, the crew are easing the heads’l sheets, do you see the forward-most sails flapping about?”

Ann became aware of her dropped jaw and promptly shut it, looking to where the captain was pointing, and nodded. The sails flogged wildly in the wind, their sheets cracking through the air in what would be a concerning manner to the untrained eye.

“That is taking the air pressure off of the bow. Rather like a weather vane, we want all of the pressure on the back of the boat, which will allow her to point into the eye of the wind. See Hemingway and Booth here taking up on the mizzen sheet? That increases the pressure on the stern.”

Rachel and Joe ignored their captain’s narration as they fought to haul in a monstrously heavy line on the quarterdeck.

“With enough momentum and a little sail handling on our part, we’ll get past the eye far enough to settle onto the other tack,” Anne continued. “See, now? We’re in the eye of the wind. Washington is having the crew backwind the heads’ls, pulling them back taught to the side they started on. This puts the pressure on the other side of the sail and helps push the bow around through the wind. And now…” Anne spun the wheel back to centre, “we’re far enough over to settle on our new tack. The crew pass the sails over to the other side and trim for this heading. I’ll have to do a few adjustments with the helm, but otherwise that’s it.”

“Wow,” Ann breathed, her eyes wide in astonishment. “This all seems so… complicated.”

Anne chuckled. “It’s simple physics. Fluid dynamics. We’re dealing with not one, but two fluids: the hull in the water and the sails in the air. Getting them to work together is part of the challenge, and the fun. The science of it _fascinates_ me,” Anne gesticulated with her free hand as she spoke, her enthusiasm infectious. “And this technology has been around for thousands of years!”

“Well, you must be very clever to understand all of it,” praised Ann.

Anne’s heart swelled. She may have started this game with admittedly selfish intentions, but this girl was positively winning over her affection.

“I appreciate you thinking so. Though I must admonish you for deceiving me, my dear.”

“Deceiving you?” Ann’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, Miss _Walker_. How was I to know that the pretty barista I had met a month ago was actually the owner of a coffee empire?”

“Oh, well,” Ann’s face reddened, “It’s hardly an _empire_. I usually don’t like to, erm, advertise it, as it were. I feel as if it colours people’s judgement before they actually know me.”

“And what do you want people to know about you, Ann?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ann murmured sheepishly. “That I like art. That I have a sister in Scotland. That I’m…”

But before she could finish, a small group of rowdy passengers had encroached on what _had_ been their sufficiently private quarterdeck. 

“Oi, Skipper! Where’s the crow’s nest?” one of them shouted while the others laughed entirely more than was reasonable.

Anne bristled. The number of times people asked her that question was astounding, whether they worked for an eponymous coffee company or not. A crow’s nest was found on older vessels, and particularly whaling ships, to serve as a lookout platform. A 20th century coastal trawler had no need for such a thing.

“We haven’t got one,” she ground out through gritted teeth.

“Haven’t got one? Well what are we sponsoring you for, then?”

“Chris, please,” Ann admonished. She seemed to know the drunkest of the bunch and stepped forward to intervene.

“Oh, come on little Annie, we’re only having a bit of fun. Lighten up!”

“You’re drunk,” she countered. “And not being very respectful of a captain who has hosted us for what has been, until now, a very enjoyable evening!”

“Ooh, I think Annie’s got a crush. You do know what they say about this one don’t you?” he nodded his head at Captain Lister.

Anne swooped forward to the drunkard, appearing to tower over him despite being several inches shorter. “I will ask you once and only once, _sir_ ,” she spat, “to vacate my quarterdeck for the remainder of the sail.”

One of his mates, suitably intimidated, tugged at his arm and muttered, “Let’s go, Chris.”

“Oh ho, very well, _Captain_ ,” he said with disdain before turning to leave, then mumbled under his breath, “ _dyke_.” One of the group elbowed him as they retreated back to the main deck.

Ann was flushed with embarrassment and anger. “I’m so sorry about him, Captain Lister.”

“You know that buffoon?”

“Unfortunately, he’s my cousin. He is _such_ a prick. And what century does he think we’re living in? People are gay, Christopher,” her eyes widened as she realised what she said may have been too forward. She quickly looked to the captain to see if she had made any offense.

Anne chuckled. _That was a good sign._ “Yes, well, you can’t choose family I suppose. On a brighter note…” she gently pressed Ann’s side so she could face the west, “take a look at that sunset.”

“Oh!” Ann gasped at the sight. The sun had lowered to the horizon and turned a fiery orange, the sky itself fading from a dusky blue to a brilliant red. Bright hues of pink and orange and red illuminated the scattered clouds. The whole masterpiece appeared double in size as it reflected in the rippling waves of the sea.

“You know what they say about a red sky at night,” Anne murmured into Ann’s ear.

Ann turned to look at her, their faces mere inches apart. “What?” she breathed.

Anne flicked her gaze down to Ann’s parted lips before licking her own and replying, “Sailor’s delight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🔥
> 
> Extra credit if you caught the Captain Ron reference. Also, if you haven’t, go watch Captain Ron. It is hilarious and upsettingly accurate to boat life.
> 
> Joseph is only here for slapstick, I fucking love that kid.


	3. Warm and Inviting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut time, babes! 😘

All things considered, Anne thought the sail went marvelously. She'd thoroughly impressed Miss Walker and had convinced her to stay afterward for a tour and a nightcap. A few of the more respectful passengers who had hit it off with the crew were sticking around as well, and they were planning to have a little bonfire on the dock once the boat was put to bed. 

Anne expertly navigated back to the dock in the growing darkness. As the crew secured the dock lines, Anne shut down the engine and flipped on the spreader-lights. With the boat secure and the deck illuminated, she strode forward to give a parting speech to the crowd of passengers while her deckhands set up the gangway. The crew then assisted the guests one by one off of the boat. Anne thanked them each for coming as they departed. Except for Christopher. She merely gave a glowering nod to him.

Ann was the last to step off. She thanked the captain and offered her hand to shake.

Anne clasped her hand in both of hers, giving it a light squeeze. “I just have a few things to finish up, and then I’ll take you on that tour.”

“Ok,” Ann smiled, “I’ll just be over here.” She gestured to where the other Crow Nest employees had gathered on the dock, talking jovially and drinking beers while waiting for the _Shibden_ crew to join them.

Anne nodded and let her go.

With the deck clear, Captain Lister and the rest of the crew set to the last bit of work that needed to be done. Tom, Eugenie, and Joe furled headsails. Marian and Rachel took down flags and coiled lines. John hooked up shore power, and Sam shut down the navigation equipment and updated the logbook. As for Anne, she sat at the table in the pilot house counting out the tips that had been pressed into her hand as the passengers departed.

She chuckled to herself as she counted, then said aloud to Washington, “Good haul today.” 

“Oh yeah?” He looked up from the chart table, where he was filling in the last few logbook entries.

“Twenty quid each, and just from the one sail.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Trust people who earn tips for a living to leave good tips. We hardly make five each on one of those posh charters.”

“Very true. Are you about finished?”

Washington completed his last entry with a flourish before setting down the logbook pen. “Yep!”

“Good, we’ll muster midships,” the captain said as she rolled up each pile of notes.

“Aye, Captain.” 

Washington stepped out of the pilot house, the captain close behind. Sam called out, “Muster!” and the _Shibden_ crew gathered in a circle on deck.

“Well done today, everyone,” Captain Lister addressed her crew. “That sail was _excellent_ , and it seems as though our guests thought so as well.” She went around the group and handed a roll of notes to each crew member. Their eyes lit up when they saw how much it was. “Right,” she said after handing the last roll to Tom, “usual Saturday tomorrow. Three sails with the public: 1000, 1300, and 1600. We’ll muster at 0900. Do you have anything, Washington?”

“Great job, everyone. We got a lot of good maintenance done this afternoon and the sail went well. Looks like we’ll be having a few drinks tonight, so just make sure you’re ready to get to work again tomorrow morning.”

“Anyone else?” Anne looked around at the crew. Everyone shook their heads, ready to be done. “All right, all hands stand down.”

“Stand down,” they echoed and immediately split off to join the group on the dock. John set to getting the bonfire started while the rest dug into the cooler the Crow Nest bunch had brought and cracked open cans or bottles. 

Ann was talking with the same friend who had nudged her into speaking with Anne earlier. She held a half-empty bottle of beer and was picking at the label. 

Captain Lister approached her from behind, grasping a bottle herself. “Well, how was it?”

“Oh!” Ann turned, then broke into an ear-to-ear grin. “It was fantastic!”

“Very lovely, Captain, thank you,” said Ann’s friend, eyeing between the two with a knowing look.

“This is my friend Cat,” Ann put in. “Cat, erm, Captain Lister.” 

“The pleasure is mine,” Anne shook Cat’s proffered hand and inclined her head. “Thank you for allowing me to take up so much of Ann’s time during the sail.”

“Of course, it’s nice to see Ann excited about something,” Cat said while raising her eyebrows, causing Ann to cough into her beer.

Anne smirked. “Indeed. Are you ready for that tour, Ann?”

Ann nodded quickly. “Lead the way, Captain.”

“Surely we’re past formalities by now. Please, call me Anne,” Anne said as she walked her back on board.

“All right, Anne,” she smiled, cheeks flushing.

“Right,” Anne said as they stepped aboard, “shall we start forward?”

“Mm,” Ann nodded.

Anne began at the bow, pointing out the headsails, how the deckhands had furled them. Which was done shoddily and which was done well. Then moved on to the anchors, how much they weighed and how long it took to raise them manually, _very_ technical details about how the windlass worked. She pointed out the entrance to the focsle, where the crew lived, and how she _never_ went in there save for mandatory inspections.

Ann nodded along, asked intelligent questions, tried to understand the intense complexities of the foreign machine that the captain so adored. Though half the time she was paying more attention to Anne’s exuberant face, her gesticulating hands, the stubborn lock of hair that fell over her forehead no matter how many times she pushed it back, and how much of her neck the undone top button of her shirt exposed.

“Shall we see the galley?”

Anne’s query brought her rapidly derailing thoughts back to the conversation. “Oh, yes, please.”

Anne guided her across the deck to the galley companionway. “Now, you must turn around as you descend. These are ladders, _not_ stairs. I’ll go first to show you how it’s done."

Anne stepped over the coaming and into the companionway before turning around, grasping the handrails, and taking careful steps downward. In truth, she and the crew never turned around. Sure, the ladders _were_ steep, but they’d all been up and down them so many times, they were used to it. At most they might turn sideways, ghosting the rail with one hand. Well, except for Marian, who, as safety officer, was insistent upon being an example of the correct way to do things.

Anne’s motives were nothing but pure in descending the ladder first. The fact that she had an _excellent_ view of Ann’s bum in her surely too-tight jeans as she followed hadn’t factored _at all_ into the decision. It was for safety. Of course. She offered her hand as Ann reached the last step, which she took. 

They moved further into the warm compartment, Ann still grasping the captain’s hand. That is, until she spotted Argus, who was dozing next to the long-extinguished stove.

“ _Anne_ , you didn’t say you had a puppy!” she exclaimed as she slid to her knees and began rubbing Argus’s wiry fur.

For his part, Argus merely glanced up at the new human finally giving him the affection he deserved, then flopped his head back down and let out a long sigh.

Anne scoffed. “He’s certainly not a puppy. He’s a lazy brute. He’s supposed to chase the seabirds away but all he does is sleep right where you’re trying to walk.”

“I’m sure he’s _fantastic_ at his job,” cooed Ann.

A bit chagrined at being overshadowed by her own dog, Anne shuffled anxiously. She gestured to Ann’s now-empty beer bottle and asked, “Would you like some wine?”

“Oh! Sure,” Ann replied, her attention sufficiently pulled from the snoozing dog. She stood and dropped her bottle in the well-labelled recycling bin in the corner.

Anne rummaged through one of the galley cabinets. “I have Cordingly keep a stash just for me. One can only drink so much cheap beer with the hands.”

Ann chuckled. “I’m sure, if the rumours about sailors are true.”

“Ah, well, I must concede that some stereotypes do have a foundation in fact,” Anne admitted while she uncorked a bottle of red. “I’m afraid we only have mugs,” she apologised. “Glassware isn’t exactly conducive in rough weather.” She pulled two mugs off of the hooks on the bulkhead and poured healthy helpings of wine.

“That’s perfect, thank you,” Ann said, receiving the mug.

Anne didn’t let go right away. Instead, she allowed their fingers to brush a moment longer than necessary before she released the mug, their eyes locking.

“It has been an absolute delight getting to know you, Ann,” the captain said in a low voice.

Ann blushed and and said, “You know, we have met before.”

“Have we?” Anne blinked in surprise.

Ann nodded. “It was before my parents died, when you came to ask for the sponsorship. I was just a teenager then, but I was working at the café. _That_ didn't last very long, I was horrible at it. You sat with them at a corner table and I brought you tea. I was so excited to see you, I asked if you wanted sugar when I’d already left some on the table. I’m sure you don’t remember it, but, well, you left quite an impression on me.” She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip of wine.

“Did I?” Anne grinned and bit her lip. She thought back and imagined she had a vague recollection of a teenage Ann. But she was so focused on getting the sponsorship, she didn’t even think of the girl. She had just become the _Shibden_ ’s captain and was determined to bring the boat back to running at a profit. Plus, she’d been rather embroiled in another relationship at the time.

“Yes, I used to, erm, walk by the seaside quite often in the hopes of seeing the _Shibden_ out sailing. I was too, well, nervous to book a ticket myself. And then my parents died, and, well…” she trailed off, looking down at her feet.

Anne reached out and tilted Ann’s chin up to meet her eyes. “Thank you for telling me that, Ann. I _do_ remember you at the café. I remember how… _animated_ you looked.” A little exaggeration in the name of flirting wouldn’t do any harm.

Ann blushed, but maintained eye contact, breaking it to quickly glance down at Anne’s lips.

Silence engulfed them, the only sound their breathing (and Argus' snores) and the distant, muffled merriment on the dock. Anne could kiss her now, she knew. The girl obviously had had a crush on her since she was a teenager. But she didn’t. Instead, the captain asked, “Are you ready for the last stop of the tour?”

Ann let out an almost imperceptible whine, but nodded.

The captain took Ann’s hand and lead her back on deck and into the pilot house. She carried on with the tour casually, pointing out the navigation equipment, radar, charts, and barometer, before she reached the final stop of the tour.

“And this,” Anne pulled open a polished wooden door, “is my cabin.”

It was small. _Very_ small. Just enough room for her berth and a small desk with a spindly little chair tucked beneath it. The faint smoky smell of pine tar emanated from the heavy coats and flannel shirts that hung from hooks lining the bulkhead. A pair of wellingtons were tucked neatly beneath the bed. Shelves above the desk were overflowing with books. 

Ann stood at the doorway and looked around. A moment’s insecurity entered Anne’s mind. What was she thinking? This woman owned a coffee empire and here she was showing off her cramped cabin in a musty old boat.

“I know it’s small,” she looked down at her boots, “but I’m really only here to sleep and—”

“It’s lovely, Anne.” Ann stepped toward her, took her mug of wine, and set both on the nearby table before grasping her hands. “It’s very… you.”

Anne chuckled, “Untidy and smelly?”

“No…” Ann reached up and lightly ran her hand through the captain’s cropped hair. “It’s warm, and inviting, and positively bursting with knowledge.”

Anne breathed out a laugh. There could be no mistaking Ann’s affection. “Well, perhaps,” she leaned close to whisper into her ear, “you’d join me inside?” She softly pressed her lips to Ann’s jaw.

Ann let out a shaky breath. “I think I’d like that.”

The captain grinned, reaching up to caress Ann’s head between her hands. Ann looked down at Anne’s lips and tilted her chin. That was all Anne needed. She brought their lips together, kissing her gently at first, then with increasing need as Ann kissed her back.

Anne walked her backwards into the cabin, shutting the door behind them and turning to press Ann against it. She trailed her lips down Ann's neck while her hands explored the curves of her hips. Ann moaned and pulled her close.

She slid her hands up under Ann’s blouse. Her calloused palms brushed along the warm skin of Ann’s torso, shifting upward to gently cup her breasts over her bra. Ann whimpered, arching into the touch. Anne could feel her nipples harden through the fabric and groaned in response, her increasing arousal coating her boxers uncomfortably. She kissed Ann again, softly tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth while she ground her hips. She pulled back slightly and fingered the top button of Ann’s blouse.

“Can I take this off?” Anne asked in a hoarse whisper.

Ann nodded, her eyes dark with arousal. “Please,” she gasped.

Anne deftly undid the buttons, pushing the blouse and cardigan off of her shoulders and letting them fall into a crumpled heap. She dove in, peppering her flushed chest with kisses and grazing her skin with her teeth. She reached behind Ann, toying with the clasp of her bra as she looked into her eyes for permission. Ann nodded quickly.

She flicked the bra open and pulled it down Ann’s arms, pausing for a moment to gawk at Ann’s breasts, before diving in again. Ann moaned as Anne trailed her lips down her chest and to her breast. She licked and sucked at her left nipple while gently pinching the right. Ann moaned loudly and her knees began to buckle, but Anne supported her, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. She slid her hands to the waistband of Ann’s jeans.

“Is this all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ann panted.

Anne grinned, leaning in to capture Ann’s swollen lips in a deep kiss while she quickly opened Ann’s jeans and slid her hand under her knickers. She gently stroked her soft curls before reaching lower. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Anne groaned as her fingers met Ann’s entrance.

Ann moaned and lifted her hips to meet Anne’s hand. Her trousers restricted Anne’s movements, though, so Anne pulled back and tugged her jeans and knickers down her legs, slipping off her trainers as well, and tossed them all aside.

Anne met her lips again, pushing her to lay down and shifting so they were both fully on the bed. She kissed a line from Ann’s jaw down to her breast while her right hand returned to her centre, dipping into her wetness then softly circling her clit.

Ann whimpered, pulled at Anne’s shirt, and murmured, “Take this off.”

Anne hummed and nipped at her breast before she scrambled back to stand in the tiny cabin. Not wanting to waste time on buttons, she shucked her shirt over her head and quickly undid her belt and trousers, shoving them down her legs and toeing off her boots.

Ann’s mouth fell open while she watched the captain shed her clothes down to a sports bra and boxer briefs. The rest of her body wasn't as tan as her arms and face. Distinct lines circled her upper arms and neck, lighter ones around the middle of her thighs. She had muscular arms and abs, and a few scars marred her skin.

But Ann barely had time to appreciate the captain’s impressive physique before Anne was back on top of her, kissing her hungrily and slotting a thigh between her legs. They both moaned at the exquisite pressure as Anne ground against her, Ann’s arousal quickly coating Anne’s thigh.

Anne brought her hand back down to Ann’s soaking core, slowly easing a finger past her folds.

“Anne, please,” Ann begged, bucking her hips into the warm touch.

“More?” Anne husked.

“Yes,” she whined.

Anne growled, adding a second finger and starting a steady rhythm, curling her fingers with each thrust. Ann moaned, throwing back her head and bucking her hips to meet Anne's thrusts. Anne breathed heavily into her neck, occasionally nipping at her shoulder as she pumped into her, grinding her swollen clit against Ann’s thigh. Anne felt Ann's muscles begin to contract and shifted her hand to rub her thumb against Ann’s clit.

“Yes!” Ann whined, her blunt nails scratching down Anne’s back.

It didn’t take much longer before Ann was seizing around her, crying out. The feeling of Ann coming on her fingers pushed Anne over the edge as well. She pulled out and clutched the bedding in tight fists as she ground her centre roughly against Ann’s thigh, the pressure just enough to send her into her own release. She let out a loud groan as she shuddered through her climax.

When the waves had subsided, Anne sighed and collapsed next to Ann, wrapping her in her arms, no choice but to cuddle in the tiny bunk. Ann rested her head on Anne’s shoulder, their sweaty skin sticking together. They both breathed heavily as they recovered, warmth radiating off of them and filling the small space.

Ann shifted to look up at Anne and asked, “Could I… stay the night?”

Anne beamed at the radiant woman in her arms. She pressed her lips to the top of her head before replying, “Of course you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! There we are. Hope that christmas challenge didn’t ruin this comparatively rather vanilla first time.
> 
> I probably definitely stole Ann’s reaction to Argus from Celine_Lister. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, etc? Plagiarism who? Honestly, who wouldn’t have that reaction to a big sleepy dog?
> 
> If you’re wondering what pine tar (the quintessential traditional boat scent) smells like, it’s exactly the same as lapsang souchong tea. Some people hate it, but if you ever want to woo a sailor, the smell of pine tar will have them swooning! That said, I can’t stand the tea. My brain’s just like, “that’s the smell of the thing I Do Not Drink”
> 
> Oh, and I made one of these things ko-fi.com/softlybutch  
> Pandemic times be hard, man. Feel free to drop a buck in there or, better yet, donate to a racial justice org of your choice!


	4. Doughnuts

“Cap owes us doughnuts, I think,” Rachel muttered darkly to her shipmates in the galley while she filled her mug with coffee.

Hemingway had been the unlucky deckhand tasked with doing a boat check the previous evening. When she’d entered the pilot house to log the check she was met with unmistakable moans and grunts coming from behind the captain’s closed door. 

“Oh, I’d like to see you tell her that,” replied John. “‘Oi, Cap, when you get lucky you owe the crew doughnuts, them’s the rules.’”

“Why doughnuts?” Tom asked around a mouthful of toast.

“Oh, I don’t know how it started,” Rachel answered as she stirred her coffee, “but it’s a tradition that’s been passed around for so long it’s fairly accepted, like buying a round when you drop something from aloft. If you have sex, you owe your shipmates a box of doughnuts. I think it’s meant to be penance for whole focsle having to hear it.”

Marian rolled her eyes as she plopped down at the table next to Tom. “If we got doughnuts every time my sister shagged someone, we’d have more doughnuts than we’d know what to do with.”

The crew chuckled. Most of them had been around long enough to be aware of the captain’s propensity for bringing women back to her cabin. It wasn’t really talked about for fear of incurring her wrath, but everyone knew she was rather… free. With her affections.

At that moment, the tell-tale brisk steps of the captain in question sounded overhead and an immediate silence fell over the galley as her footfalls landed on the ladder.

“Morning,” came Anne’s gruff greeting.

“Morning, Captain,” the crew mumbled in unison.

Anne filled two mugs with coffee and snatched up a plate of toast, a palpable silence looming in the compartment.

She looked suspiciously over her crew, whose eyes were fixed to their mugs or bowls, before she pounded back up the ladder.

A collective sigh fell from everyone as her footsteps receded.

“Well, that was close,” murmured Rachel. 

~

“Here we are,” Anne said as she opened her cabin door, skillfully balancing the plate of toast on the same arm that held the mugs of coffee.

The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks and _nearly_ caused her to drop the precarious breakfast. Ann was sat on her bunk wearing _only_ one of Anne’s old flannel shirts, with one measly button holding it closed over her chest, biting her lip and smiling at her teasingly.

Anne hurriedly set the mugs and plate down on the desk and shut the door before she pounced on the gorgeous girl in her bed.

Ann fell back against the mattress, giggling, then sighed contentedly as Anne peppered her neck with kisses.

“You. Are. So. Hot.” Anne murmured between each kiss.

“Am I?” Ann asked cheekily. 

“Fuck yes,” Anne groaned as she popped open the button on her shirt, leaning back to look unabashedly at Ann’s breasts. 

Ann hummed, gently tugging at her collar, “Why don’t you do something about it, then?”

Anne growled and crashed their lips together, pushing Ann down onto the bed and deepening the kiss. Her tongue slid against Ann’s as she roughly massaged Ann’s breast. Ann moaned at the contact, grasping at Anne’s shirt. Anne trailed kisses along her jaw, pausing to suck at her pulse point, before continuing lower. She took Ann’s right nipple into her mouth and sucked. Ann gasped and bucked her hips.

“Anne, please.”

“Hmm?” Anne switched to her left breast while her right hand traced slowly down over Ann’s belly.

“I need you,” Ann whimpered.

“Need me to what?” she asked as she stroked Ann’s curls teasingly.

“Fuck me,” she gasped. “Please fuck me.”

“Well,” Anne drawled, “since you asked so nicely,” and eased two fingers into Ann’s sopping core.

Ann cried out, lifting her hips to draw her deeper.

Anne started a slow rhythm, her thumb brushing against Ann’s clit with every thrust. She licked a line along Ann’s jaw and nipped at her ear. Her breathing became ragged as she increased her pace. Ann whimpered and moaned and writhed beneath her. The sound of slick skin meeting filled the cabin and the bunk creaked beneath them.

~

Rachel had just finished the last boat check of her duty after a quick breakfast. Ready to hand over to Tom for the day, all that was left was to complete the logbook entry. She had just stepped into the pilot house to do so when she heard it. _Again_. A distinctive rhythmic creaking coming from the captain’s cabin.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she grumbled as she snatched up the logbook and took it on deck. The ship’s log was never supposed to leave the chart table, but Hemingway would rather carry out whatever punishment was deemed appropriate for moving the log than listen to the sounds of her captain’s lovemaking for one more second.

~

Anne’s arm was beginning to burn with the effort, but she could feel Ann’s muscles tightening as she approached her peak. Her moans increased in pitch and were interspersed with cries of “yes,” and “please,” and “ _fuck_.”

“Come for me, Ann,” she growled into her ear as she swiped at Ann’s clit and curled her fingers inside of her.

Ann cried out as her release ripped through her. She clenched around Anne’s fingers and clawed at her shirt as the waves passed over. Anne continued to slowly stroke her as she shuddered through her climax. Finally, she stilled, limbs flopping down beside her, spent. Anne pulled out, humming contentedly at a job well done, and pressed a soft kiss to Ann’s lips, who returned it languidly.

Anne could feel the blood pounding in her core. Her soaked boxers stuck uncomfortably to her thighs. She ground her hips against Ann’s leg in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure, but then the captain made the fatal mistake of glancing at her watch.

“You,” she said, pecking Ann’s lips before scrambling to stand up, “are going to make me late.”

“Mmm,” Ann hummed sleepily, positively glowing in her post-orgasm bliss.

Anne shook her head in disbelief at the incredible girl laying in her bunk as she tucked the tails of her shirt into her trousers. 

“I just have to muster the crew and I’ll be right back,” Anne said, planting a quick kiss to Ann’s forehead before leaving the cabin and shutting the door behind her.

Anne exited the pilot house to find her crew already gathered midships. She futilely attempted to smooth down her now-wrinkled shirt and checked her watch. It was only _just_ 0900\. _Technically_ she wasn’t late.

“Right, muster,” she said.

“Muster!” called back the crew. 

The captain cleared her throat. “Three sails with the public today. I’ll likely be in the office between sails. Washington?”

“Nothing, Captain.”

“Anyone else?”

The crew shook their heads.

“Good. All right, well—”

It was then that Anne noticed the logbook on a deck box near the entrance to the pilot house.

“What’s the logbook doing on deck?” She barked.

The crew shuffled awkwardly and tried not to look at Rachel, who they knew had done the morning boat check.

Hemingway sighed and raised her hand, “I was just, er…” she hesitated, “doing the, er, weather… observations…” she trailed off. It was a poor excuse and she knew it, but she wasn’t exactly going to say that she couldn’t stand listening to the captain fucking for a second time. 

Anne’s brow furrowed. “You commit the observations to memory and then write them down, you know this Hemingway. I don’t care if you have to pop in and out of the pilot house a dozen times. If you must, write them on a piece of scrap paper, but the log does not leave the chart table.”

“Yes, Captain. Sorry, Captain.”

“Who has the duty today?” Captain Lister asked.

“Er, I do, Captain,” Tom raised his hand.

“Right, Hemingway, you’ll be taking Mr Beech’s duty today. And the logbook will remain on the chart table, is that understood?”

“Fuck me,” Rachel murmured under the breath.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Captain,” she answered loudly.

“Right, if no one else has anything,” the captain looked around at her crew, none of whom dared say a word. “Let’s get started. Soles and bowls.”

“Soles and bowls,” echoed the crew, and they scattered to begin morning chores.

Anne turned toward the pilot house, but before she could take another step—

“Anne!”

“What? Oh.” _Marian_.

“That was completely unfair!” She hissed at her sister, attempting to tug her by the sleeve out of earshot, but to no avail.

“What was?” Anne stayed firmly planted where she stood.

“Giving Rachel two duty days in a row!”

“ _I_ didn’t give her yesterday’s duty, Washington did,” Anne countered, annoyed at her sister’s insolence. “She knows the logbook mustn’t leave the chart table. It is an essential document and if it’s moved outside it could be lost or damaged! If there aren’t consequences for breaking the rules, then they mean nothing!”

“She moved the log because—” Marian glanced around before lowering her voice, “ _because she could hear you_.” She nodded her head toward the pilot house. “You and your… lady… friend…” she trailed off awkwardly. 

Anne blanched, momentarily embarrassed, but quickly recovered. “Yes, well, these things happen, Marian, and they haven’t been an issue in the past. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” she made to step around her sister.

“The least you could do is pick up some doughnuts for everyone!” Marian pleaded.

“Doughnuts?”

“Yes, Anne, doughnuts, you’ve been sailing long enough to know the custom.”

“I am _not_ buying doughnuts for my own crew. If Cordingly wants to pick some up on her next provisioning run, so be it, but that tradition is for deckhands living in the focsle, not captains who have their own private cabins in which to do as they please.”

Marian huffed. “You’re impossible!”

“And _you_ have chores to be doing, don’t you?” Anne shouted as she entered the pilot house, ending the conversation and leaving her sister flustered on deck. 

Anne entered her cabin for the second time that morning, brooding from her exchange with Marian, but the sight of Ann Walker seated adorably cross-legged and sipping from a mug of coffee on her bunk softened her immediately. She was partly relieved and partly disappointed to find Ann wearing all of her own clothes.

“Hello, beautiful,” she smiled.

“Hi,” Ann replied shyly, which Anne thought rather preposterous after her initial morning greeting.

“Now, I have to go to work. But,” she tucked a strand of hair behind Ann’s ear and caressed the side of her face, “I hope to see you again?”

Ann’s face lit up. “I’d like that. Would you…” insecurity flashed behind her eyes as she hesitated, “would you want to have dinner with me? Tonight?” She looked down, fiddling with the mug. “I know, we’ve just met, and you’re probably very busy, but—”

Anne cut her off, gently tilting her chin upward to meet her eyes, “I would love to have dinner with you tonight. Here,” she reached into her back pocket and produced a business card. “This has my mobile number. Text me where and when, and I’ll be there.”

“Ok,” Ann said, taking the card and clutching it as if it were a lifeline. She glanced at Anne’s lips and tilted her chin.

Anne smiled at the gesture and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling away. She trailed her hands down Ann’s arms and pulled her to her feet.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

~

Tom and Rachel stood anxiously outside of the entrance to the pilot house, grasping a broom and spray bottles of cleaning solution.

“I am _not_ doing the pilot house!” hissed Hemingway. “What if they’re shagging again?”

“Come on, work’s started, she wouldn’t do that _now,_ ” Tom reasoned.

“I dunno, she was really going at it at _eight-bloody-thirty_ this morning.”

“Look I’ll just… pop in and if I don’t hear anything I’ll signal you and we’ll both knock it out as fast as we can, all right?”

“Fine, but if I have to hear Cap knuckle-deep in blonde pussy one more time, I _swear to God…_ ”

Tom grimaced at the picture Hemingway had painted, but entered the compartment nonetheless. He looked around furtively and took a couple steps toward the captain’s closed cabin door, angling his head to hear better. All he could make out were muffled voices. Nothing like—well, what Hemingway had said. He had just turned to signal Rachel when the cabin door swung open, and out came the captain and her newest paramour—both thankfully fully clothed.

Tom jumped and began hurriedly sweeping. “Morning, Captain!” he said, probably louder than was normal.

“Beech,” Anne nodded, striding past him indifferently and guiding a blushing Ann out onto the deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I had waaaaay too much fun with the crew on this one.
> 
> The doughnut thing is a real tradition on a lot of boats I’ve been on. And you absolutely can identify individuals by their footsteps before they enter a compartment.
> 
> I rather despise captains like Anne, but they are a part of the industry (not the shagging, thankfully I’ve never had to experience that, but keeping the crew on tenterhooks and leading by fear is rather shit). It’s fun to write when you don’t have to be working for them.


	5. Oysters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter named after a food item? In my fic? It’s more likely than you think.

Ann fretted at the mirror of her bathroom, holding dress after dress up and eyeing each critically. She was back at her flat getting ready for her—she couldn’t believe it— _date_ with Anne. It was barely afternoon, but she couldn’t think of anything else. She hadn’t texted Anne yet, debating between a couple of restaurant choices.

Her stomach flipped as she thought of the previous night. _And that morning._ Who was she? She wasn’t the type to sleep with someone she barely knew. She wasn’t the type to sleep with, well, _anyone_. But this was Captain Anne Lister. The person she’d had a crush on since she was a teenager. She was so charming and handsome and clever. She made Ann feel confident and sure of herself, which was no small feat.

Her mobile on the counter next to her rang, the caller ID displaying Cat’s name. _Oh, here we go_ , she thought.

“Hi, Cat—” she answered, before sharply pulling the phone away as she was met with an inhuman screech on the other end.

“Ann! You _have_ to tell me what happened last night, I _know_ you didn’t go home. Because I stayed _way_ too late getting pissed with—oh, what was his name? Tim? Tom? Whatever, I think he’s gay. Why are the hot ones _always_ gay? Anyway, _ANN_. Spill!”

Ann laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Well, you’re right, I didn’t go home…” She winced as Cat screamed again.

“I _knew_ it, how was it? Was she _very_ good in bed? She _looks_ like she would be.”

Ann blushed and bit her lip. “It was, erm, yeah, it was good. We’re actually going out, erm, tonight.” This time she preemptively held the phone at arm’s length as Cat shrieked. 

“Ann, that’s _amazing_! Where are you going?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet, I was thinking either that seafood place on the quay or that new Italian restaurant that just opened.”

“Ooh, stick with the sea theme? Plus the view of the water is _so_ romantic, _and_ I hear oysters are an aphrodisiac!”

“ _Cat!_ ” Ann’s cheeks burned, “I don’t think… it’s our first _actual_ date…”

“Ann Walker. If you’ve already shagged I _don’t_ think the number of dates even matters at this point.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ann agreed. “All right, seafood it is. Now I just need to decide on a dress…”

“Ooh, can I come over and help?”

“If you like—”

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t you _dare_ decide without me!”

Ann shook her head as she hung up. Cat was a good friend. _Very_ excitable, but they balanced each other out she supposed. At least that was the restaurant sorted. She switched apps on her phone to make the reservation, then texted Anne the restaurant and time. She hesitated for a moment before pressing ‘send,’ then shook her head. She shouldn’t worry so much. Like Cat said, _they’d already shagged for heaven’s sake._

~

Anne was hunched over the computer in her office after the first of the day’s three sails. She massaged her temples while attempting to process the _many_ requests a charter client had just sent in (a full bar, hors d'oeuvres, _and_ a band? They did know this was an old fishing ketch and not a megayacht?), when her mobile buzzed.

She picked it up, noticing the message was from an unknown number.

_Hi, Anne. It’s Ann (Lord, that sounds silly). How is The Lighthouse for dinner tonight? At 8?_

Anne grinned. _Sounds wonderful_ , she typed back. _I look forward to seeing you then._

A response came back almost immediately. _You too._ 😘

Anne breathed out a laugh. This girl really was something. As tightly as she had locked up her heart, it seemed that Ann Walker was chipping away at her defenses.

The captain would much rather daydream about Ann than go back to dealing with this irritating client, but she did only have an hour between sails and half of that had already passed. She quickly composed an email back, explained that there was only room on the _Shibden_ ’s deck for two of the three requests, and desired that they respond with which two that would be (she prayed they cut the band) by Monday so she could make the necessary bookings.

With that sorted for the time being, Anne stood, stretched, grabbed the manifest for the next sail from the printer tray, and made her way out of the museum. She dodged waist-high crowds of high-vis attired school children in the main hall of the museum before she burst through the side door into the comparatively peaceful open air. 

The day was proving rather disappointing after the captain’s delightful morning. There wasn’t a lick of wind. Most of the two hours of the first sail were spent floating on a glassy sea, the _Shibden_ ’s sails hanging limp and motionless. Windless sails were particularly boring because she couldn’t use manoeuvring the boat as an excuse to avoid talking to disgruntled passengers. Instead, she had to explain over and over again why the _sailboat_ wasn’t moving in the still air.

Captain Lister stepped aboard the _Shibden_ , shoved the manifest wordlessly at Eugénie (who regrettably was standing nearby), then entered the pilot house. Since they had already been out that day, there wasn’t much to prepare before boarding passengers for the second sail. She clicked through the weather application on the navigation computer in the vain hope that the wind forecast had changed. It hadn’t.

Anne sighed. She resigned herself to an utterly dismal work day. It seemed as though the previous day had been a fortuitous fluke. The lack of wind wasn’t just irksome for sailing. It really made the time drag by, and Anne was actually rather eager for her date with Ann. Which, in itself, was remarkable. She couldn’t remember the last time she was excited for a date. 

Washington stuck his head in the pilot house. “Passengers are all checked in, Captain.”

“Right.” Captain Lister nodded and returned to deck. “Boarding stations!” she called, then marched onto the dock to greet the next batch of guests. 

~

 _Finally_ , the day was over. The _Shibden_ was buttoned up for the evening and the crew had gathered for muster.

“Muster!” Captain Lister called.

“Muster,” the crew called back.

“Well, that was certainly… a day. Don’t really have anything to add to that. Washington?”

“Hard to find anything to critique when there’s no wind to sail. Just remember to keep treating every line as if it’s under load, even on windless days, so your instincts stay sharp when there _is_ wind. Other than that, good job. Passengers seemed… well, they seemed bored, but who wasn’t?” Sam shrugged.

“Anyone else have anything?” Anne asked.

Marian raised her hand, “Just, er, try to remind guests not to sit on the focsle hatch. It was Joe’s day off and he couldn’t get out to use the head during the first sail.”

The crew snickered, but nodded in agreement. Anne rolled her eyes.

“Right, anyone else?” Silence. “Good. Tomorrow will be the same as today. Muster at 0900. I’m off, so you’ll have Captain Norcliffe for the three sails. All hands stand down.”

“Stand down,” the crew repeated, a discernable tension easing from their shoulders as they scattered.

Sundays were the crew’s favourites. Captain Lister always took them off, and their relief captain, Tib, was a right hoot. The crew didn’t feel like they were walking on eggshells like they did with Captain Lister. Most of that was warranted. Captain Lister _was_ the full time captain and had the family history with the boat, so of course she expected a lot from her crew, whereas Tib just skippered for fun on Anne’s days off. It was a welcome reprieve for everyone involved. The captain got a day off from the boat, the crew got a day off from the captain, and Tib—who normally ran a booze-cruise tour boat—got to go sailing with relatively sane and sober passengers.

Anne bounded into the pilot house, gathered her shower things from her cabin, and went into the head. It was just 18:50. She’d be ready in half-an-hour and the restaurant was only a ten minute walk down the quay from where the _Shibden_ was docked. Plenty of time.

She turned on the water in the small and poorly-lit shower and shed her clothes. At last, the captain let her mind wander to Ann. That morning was… _well_. She briefly considered relieving some of the tension she hadn’t had the time to release earlier, but held back. Long showers weren’t possible on a boat with limited water tank capacity. She stepped into the still-cool water, immediately quelling any thoughts of pleasuring herself, and shut it off once suitably damp. She mused on whether she’d find her way to Ann’s that night as she soaped up, then quickly rinsed off.

Sea shower complete, Anne towelled dry, dressed, and completed the extra pre-date steps of applying pomade to her short hair and a small amount of cologne. Anne emerged from the head freshly clothed in a crisp dark grey button-down and black chinos. She stood in front of the mirror on the open head door and knotted her tie.

“Going somewhere?” Marian asked as she entered the pilot house.

“Yes, Marian, obviously I am,” Anne responded tersely.

“Are you going to see that blonde, erm—”

“Miss Walker, yes,” Anne interrupted as she adjusted her full windsor.

“Walker? You don’t mean… she’s not the _owner_ of Crow Nest?” Marian questioned apprehensively.

“Mm,” Anne affirmed. “The very same.”

“You’re not… oh, Anne, you’re not using that poor girl to… for money, are you?”

Anne rolled her eyes, “Not that it’s any of _your_ business, Marian—”

“Because you _know_ she lost both her parents, and if you’re taking advantage of her—”

“I’m not—” Anne rounded on her, “I’m not taking advantage, Marian. As a matter of fact I,” she hesitated, unsure of baring this vulnerability to her sister, and lowered her voice, “I’m growing rather fond of her.”

“Oh.” Marian quirked an eyebrow. It wasn’t necessarily unusual for her sister to fall for someone so quickly, but she’d been pretty set on casual liaisons since her last big breakup. “Well. I hope you have a nice night then.”

“Mm.” Anne turned back to the mirror to straighten her tie unnecessarily.

Marian plucked a book from the shelf in the corner and continued to eye her sister suspiciously on her way back to deck.

Anne gave herself one last look in the mirror, checked her watch, and stowed her shower things back in her cabin. She pocketed her wallet and phone and laced up her one pair of nice shoes.

As put together as anyone who lived on a boat could be, the captain exited the pilot house and began the walk down the quay to The Lighthouse. Though it wasn’t the sort of place sailors would usually frequent, being a rather upscale restaurant, the _Shibden_ crew were welcomed at the bar and had a good relationship with the staff.

The walk was comfortable. The heat from the day was dissipating as the sun eased toward the horizon. Seagulls squawked all around, swooping for fish or bits of discarded food, and the waves gently lapped against the seawall. 

Anne approached The Lighthouse—it was literally a retired lighthouse that had been renovated into a restaurant—and checked her watch: 19:47. She was early, as she tended to be. Anne scanned the dining area in the surrounding garden, but saw no sign of that gorgeous blonde head. She elected to wait just to the side of the entrance, leaning with one foot planted against the white stone wall of the attached house and scrolling through the marine weather forecast on her phone.

 _Of course_ Tib would get a suitably breezy day. Typical. The captain muttered to herself as she pinched and zoomed a weather map, squinting at a front that would be nearing the area in a couple of days.

“Anne?”

Anne looked up to see Ann approaching her. Beautiful, radiant, stunning Ann. She was wearing a delectable little yellow floral sundress, loose hair, and a warm smile. Anne became aware that her mouth had quite fallen open, so she snapped it shut and pushed herself off of the wall.

“You look incredible.”

“You look great.”

They both chuckled at having spoken at the same time. 

“Quite a pair, aren’t we?” Anne laughed. “Shall we?” She offered her elbow, which Ann took, the warmth of her hand spreading across Anne’s forearm. 

They entered the little attached house and approached the maître d’.

“I should have a reservation for Walker,” Ann said.

“Of course, right this way,” he said, picking up two menus and leading them through to the garden.

The maître d’ escorted them to a table facing the sea. The garden was tastefully decorated with greenery and fairy lights. Single candles flickered dimly on each of the tables in the dusky daylight. Anne pulled out a chair for Ann before seating herself across from her. The maître d’ handed each of them their menus, rattled off the specials and wine selection, then retreated.

Anne opened the menu, scanning it quickly. “What do you think? Oysters?” she asked, looking up and giving Ann a mischievous smirk.

Ann blushed. “I’ve heard them, erm, recommended,” she replied, her eyes fixed to the menu, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Excellent. What about wine? Do you have a preference?”

“Oh, anything. I really don’t know much about wine, to be honest,” Ann admitted.

Anne laughed, “Me neither! Shall we try a chardonnay, then?”

“Sure.”

They smiled at each other. Electricity sparked between them, but also a bit of comfort. They _had_ already slept together, which eased some of the pressure from the date. They were there to get to know one another, which should be fun. A sharply dressed waiter took their drink order and returned shortly with two glasses and a bottle of chardonnay, which he poured for them.

They each took a sip and nodded at the waiter, who left the bottle on the table.

Ann waited until he’d departed before asking, “Do they expect us to turn it away if we don’t like it? After they’ve opened the bottle?” She laughed.

“I suppose so,” Anne replied, stroking her glass. “I suspect they get that sort here a lot.”

“I can’t see myself turning away any kind of wine,” Ann mused, grinning as she brought the glass to her lips. “How was your day?”

“Oh, miserable,” Anne answered indifferently before taking a drink.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Ann worried the morning hadn’t been quite as wonderful as she’d remembered.

Anne noticed her shift. “No, not—just the sailing. There was no wind. _This_ ,” Anne reached across the table and held Ann’s hands in her own, smiling gently, “is a decided improvement.”

“Oh! Good.” Ann relaxed and returned the smile.

The evening wore on pleasantly and the conversation flowed. They _did_ order oysters, which ended up being more funny than seductive. Anne was charming and knowledgeable. She personally knew the fishermen who supplied the restaurant, and Ann was enthralled by her sea stories. From horrifying storms to ridiculous antics in her youth, Ann followed along, occasionally getting lost in the technical details, but otherwise captivated and contributing some of her own comparatively tame coffee shop adventures. 

The sun had set by the time they tucked in to a crème brûlée, leaving them bathed in soft candlelight while the sound of the waves crashing against the shore surrounded them. They were both warm from the wine and the company and had progressed to sharing family anecdotes.

“Oh, Marian’s ridiculous. She wants me to follow some inane custom the deckhands have.”

“What is it?” Ann asked, amused.

“Well,” Anne licked her lips, “if you…” she lowered her voice to a rough whisper, leaning conspiratorially across the table, “have sex,” she paused, eyes glinting with mischief, “you’re supposed to bring in doughnuts for the crew.”

Ann shivered, her face flushing. “W-why,” she began, then shook her head, “why doughnuts?”

“Don’t really know.” Anne smirked then returned to a more casual tone. “It’s a tradition in the industry. One of the many quirks. But really, it doesn’t apply to captains, most of whom have their own private cabins.”

“Well,” Ann recovered and smiled boldly, “why don’t you come back to mine tonight,” she stretched her leg under the table and brushed Anne’s anke with her foot, “and we can pick up some doughnuts in the morning?”

Anne shifted in her seat and looked excitedly at Ann. “Really?”

Ann nodded then leant across the table, pressing a gentle kiss to Anne’s lips.

Anne savoured the sweet brush of Ann’s lips on hers. “You know…” she said when they had parted, “I have the day off tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” Ann beamed. “So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I didn’t want to leave it at a cliffhanger before the smut, but this chapter rather got away from me, and I really didn’t want to break it before the date, so here we are. I promise there will be more sailing in the future. But. I am _excited_ for relief captain Tib! I think that’ll be a couple chapters coming, but boy is it going to be a blast. My Tib uses they/them pronouns and is butch af. Prepare yourselves appropriately.
> 
> The oyster scene from Ratched (which I had to give up watching because I am a coward), did originally inspire this chapter, but I didn't want to copy it and I don't think oysters are actually that sexy, sorry fam. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Hopefully next week's smut will make up for it.


	6. Hopelessly, Irrevocably, Undeniably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smut. But then _feelings_.

After a brief tussle over the bill, Anne emerged the victor, and they left the restaurant arm-in-arm, strolling along the quay amiably. Moonlight sparkled over the harbour and illuminated the little seaside shops that lined the street. They walked a couple blocks along the water then turned into town, soon approaching the building that housed the original café and coffee roasters. Ann guided the captain toward a side door and retrieved a key from her purse.

“You live above the café?” Anne asked, a little surprised. 

“Yes, I erm,” Ann paused as she opened the door, leading the way to a narrow stairwell, “well, I own the whole building. Technically.”

“My my,” Anne smirked, following her inside.

Ann took Anne’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and tugged her up the stairs. They reached the door to Ann’s flat on the second floor, which Ann hurriedly unlocked before pulling Anne inside.

The flat was airy and open. A tidy kitchen to the left, cozy living room with a fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows ahead, and a hall leading to bedrooms and a bathroom was on the right. Anne didn’t get much of a chance to appreciate it, though. She had just kicked off her shoes when Ann yanked her by her tie, crashing their lips together.

Anne’s hands found Ann’s hips as she returned the kiss, which soon grew deep and sloppy, Ann’s fingers threading through the captain’s hair as she pulled her close.

“Bedroom?” Anne gasped when they broke for air.

Ann nodded quickly, her pupils blown, and tugged Anne by her tie down the hall and into her room.

Anne laughed as she was led to the bedroom like a dog on a lead. She loved how this girl could be shy and timid one moment then bold and wanton the next. And while Anne tended to prefer being the aggressor in the bedroom, she couldn’t deny that ceding some control to Ann was working for her. 

_Well_ , for a little while at least. Once in the room Anne took the opportunity of a closed door to roughly push Ann up against it, kissing her hungrily while grinding into her hips. Ann gasped and let out the most delicious whine as Anne nipped at her neck, her hands wandering up to grope Ann’s breasts over her dress.

Ann fumbled with the knot of Anne’s tie as Anne kissed her throat, whimpering with frustration when she couldn't get it undone. Anne chuckled and pulled back, loosening the tie and pulling it from around her neck with a snap before she swiftly undid the buttons of her shirt. Ann’s mouth fell open as Anne shrugged off the shirt. Her white undershirt sharply contrasted with her black trousers and belt. It clung to every muscle, the sleeves stretching around her biceps.

“You’re so hot,” Ann breathed.

Anne smirked, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Ann’s jaw. “I could say the same to you.”

“Seriously Anne,” Ann reached for her, found the hem of the shirt and lifted it over her head, let her hands roam over the toned muscles of Anne’s abdomen, “you’re, like, _really_ fit.”

“And you…” Anne purred, pulling loose the tie on Ann’s dress and hiking up the skirt, “are positively ravishing.”

She brought their lips together again while gathering the fabric of Ann’s dress in her hands. She nipped Ann’s bottom lip before tugging the dress over her head, revealing a matching pink lacy bra and knickers.

“Fuck,” Anne groaned at the sight. The curves of Ann’s body, her pale freckled skin, the bright pink flush of her chest that perfectly matched her underwear. Anne didn’t think she’d ever seen a woman so stunning. “Come here,” she pulled Ann close, kissing her softly at first, then with increasing need as she guided her toward the bed.

Anne nudged her back to sit on the bed. She skillfully unclasped Ann’s bra with one hand, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then pushed Ann to lie back, crawling over her and kissing a line down from her jaw to her neck to her breasts.

Anne worshipped Ann’s breasts. Licking, sucking, biting. Paying equal attention to both as Ann writhed and keened beneath her. She released a nipple with a pop and trailed her lips lower, down her stomach, just above her knickers. She inhaled the strong scent of Ann’s arousal—its presence obvious on her soaked pants—as she kissed and nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh. 

Anne glanced up at Ann. Her eyes were screwed shut, hands clutching the sheets in tight fists, whimpers falling from her lips. “This all right?” she asked, her voice a rough whisper, fingers toying with the waistband of her knickers.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Ann moaned, lifting her hips.

Anne chuckled and tugged the garment down her legs and off. She kissed her way back up Ann’s calf, her thigh. She hovered for a moment, taking in the sight of her, hot breath falling on her glistening core. Ann reached for her head, tangled her fingers in her hair and guided Anne to where she needed her.

Anne hummed, wrapped her arms around Ann’s legs and licked a broad stripe along her folds, relishing the flavour of her arousal. Ann moaned and bucked, tugging Anne’s hair as Anne’s tongue found her clit. Anne held her hips down while she licked and sucked at the hard bud.

Ann’s moans grew higher as she neared her peak. Anne was relentless, she increased her pace, flicking Ann’s clit with her tongue and sucking it into her mouth. It wasn’t long before Ann seized, shuddering through her climax. Anne gently licked up her arousal as she recovered. She crawled back up Ann’s body and kissed her parted lips.

“Wow,” Ann breathed. 

Anne smiled smugly, nuzzling into her neck. “Wow, yourself,” she murmured.

“Can I… touch you?” Ann asked softly.

Anne hesitated. She usually didn’t let anyone touch her. Not since Mary. Well, if she were being honest with herself, her usual one night stands never asked, and she was fine with that. But... this wasn’t a one-night stand, was it?

“If you don’t want to that’s fine—”

“No! I… yes. I’d like that. Just… outside, ok?”

A warm smile bloomed on Ann’s face. She nodded and leaned in to press their lips together. The kiss was tender and comforting. Ann trailed her hands softly down Anne’s body, unbuckled her belt, unzipped her trousers. They both sat up to shove the trousers down her legs.

“Will you take this off?” Ann asked, fingering the strap of Anne’s sports bra. 

Anne nodded and twisted out of the bra, tossing it aside. Ann kissed her again, gently pushing her to lay back.

It wasn’t often Anne was on her back. She was awed by the care and understanding Ann nurtured in her touch. Ann slid her hand under Anne’s boxers to her warm, wet centre. She groaned at the contact, at the perfect way Ann’s delicate fingers gathered her wetness and circled her clit. Ann was impossibly gentle. She trailed her lips down Anne’s jaw to her neck, lightly kissing her pulse point while she rubbed her clit achingly slowly. A little too slowly for Anne.

“Faster,” she panted, raising her hips.

Ann obliged, increasing her pace and pressure, focusing in on the spot that made Anne’s breaths come in short gasps.

The pleasure built quickly inside of her. Anne tensed, curling forward as her muscles seized, and a loud groan fell from her throat. Ann eased her through, gently stroking her until slumped back. Ann pulled her hand out from Anne’s boxers and brought her fingers, glistening with Anne’s arousal, to her own lips. Anne gawked as Ann licked her fingers clean, smiling deviously.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Anne breathed, leaning in to kiss her, savouring the taste of her own arousal on Ann’s tongue.

Ann hummed, snuggling into Anne once they’d parted and pulling the duvet over them. She rested her head on Anne’s shoulder and threw a leg over her hips. Anne relaxed into the warmth and the contact of their bodies, her heart rate easing back to normal. Soon they both fell into an easy slumber.

~

Anne awoke to a nest of blonde hair tickling her nose and Ann’s back pressed against her front, her arm wrapped around Ann’s waist. Anne revelled in the contact of their warm skin. She pulled Ann closer and began trailing her lips along Ann’s back. She felt Ann begin to shift against her.

“Good morning,” Anne murmured between kisses.

“Morning,” Ann mumbled sleepily.

Anne kissed her neck, causing gooseflesh to rise on her skin. Ann began to squirm from the attention, wriggling her bum into Anne’s hips.

She nipped at Ann’s earlobe, then whispered hotly into her ear, “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?”

Ann laughed, turning around in her embrace and swatting her arm playfully. “You tease! Of course I do.” She sat up, the duvet falling to her waist.

Anne propped herself up on her elbow, head resting on her fist, as she admired the way the soft morning light hit Ann’s pale skin, the curves of her breasts, her golden hair. When she stood Anne could appreciate the dip of her waist, the curve of her bum, the thatch of blonde hair between her legs.

“Do you actually want to brush your teeth, or are you just going to stare at my arse?”

Anne laughed as she got up to follow Ann to the connected bathroom. “Surely I can do both.”

Ann chuckled, pulled a new toothbrush from the drawer and handed it to Anne before reaching for her own on the counter. 

They looked at each other in the mirror while brushing their teeth. Their differences were stark. Anne was taller, had broad shoulders, small breasts, and narrow hips still clad in boxers. Her muscular form was adorned with uneven tan lines and scars, and her dark hair cut close to her head. She stood in contrast to Ann’s smooth, pale body, fuller at the hips and chest, and long blonde hair curling past her shoulders. They made eye contact in the mirror and smiled at one another around their toothbrushes.

The simple intimacy of the moment overwhelmed Anne. It had only been two days, and already she was revelling in the domesticity. What was she thinking? She didn’t _do_ domesticity. Avoided it at all costs after Mary. And Maria. And Vere. All right, maybe she didn’t actually _avoid_ domesticity very well. 

They bent to spit, one after the other. Anne pulled Ann to her, captured her lips in a minty kiss. They kissed slowly, savouring each other, Anne’s hands caressing Ann’s head, tangling her fingers in her hair. Ann deepened the kiss, pulling Anne flush against her, tiny moans escaping her throat. 

Anne pushed her back against the counter, lifting her to sit upon it while she kissed and nipped her jaw and neck. Ann whimpered, ran her hand through Anne’s hair and clenched it into a fist, the sharp tug spurring Anne on.

Anne massaged Ann’s breast with her left hand while her right smoothed up her thigh. Her fingers slipped over Ann’s wet folds and Ann whined, rocking against her touch. Anne plunged two fingers into her, curling inside of her, reaching for that perfect spot. Ann gasped and moaned, rocking against her, her arousal quickly coating Anne’s hand as Anne rubbed her palm against her clit.

“Yes yes yes!” Ann cried, grasping wildly at Anne’s shoulders.

Anne felt Ann’s walls clench around her fingers. She ground her palm roughly against her clit until Ann shuddered. She clawed at Anne’s back as her climax tore through her.

Ann panted into Anne’s ear as she eased down. “You’re, erm, really good at that,” Ann breathed, blushing as Anne pulled out of her.

Anne chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to Ann’s lips. Ann returned it sloppily.

When she had recovered, Ann slid from the counter to stand, draping her arms over Anne’s shoulders and bringing their lips together again. She turned them around as they kissed until Anne was leaning against the counter. Ann lowered herself to her knees, running her hands from Anne’s thighs down her fuzzy calves and back up again, to the waistband of Anne’s boxers. 

“Can I?” she breathed, looking up into Anne’s dark eyes, her hot breath falling on Anne’s core.

Anne nodded, heart pounding. It was in this vulnerable moment that Anne realised she had fallen hopelessly, irrevocably, undeniably in love with Ann Walker. Her hands clenched the edge of the counter as Ann slid her boxers down her legs. Ann wasted no time, descending on her greedily, her tongue easily finding Anne’s swollen clit. 

Anne gasped, low grunts and moans falling from her lips as Ann unravelled her. She brought her hands to Ann’s head, tangling her fingers into her hair and guiding her movements. White hot pleasure shot through her body. She came with a choked gasp, muscles tensing as the waves washed over her. 

Anne slumped back against the counter, breathing heavily as she recovered. Ann returned to her feet, wrapping her arms around Anne’s waist.

“Are you hungry?” Ann asked, pecking her softly on the lips.

The smell and taste of Anne’s own arousal on her lips made Anne’s stomach flip. She chuckled breathlessly. “I am, actually.”

“How about breakfast downstairs? It’s on the house.” Ann grinned.

“Sounds lovely,” Anne panted, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.

“All right, I’m just going to shower quickly. Do you want to shower?”

“Do you think I need one?” Anne asked apprehensively. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, but didn’t want to be too smelly around Ann. 

Ann leaned in to press her face to the juncture of Anne’s neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply. “I like the way you smell.”

Anne laughed, desire flooding her anew, but she bent to pull up her boxers anyway. “Well, perhaps we can stop by the boat after breakfast and I can change, at least.”

“Sure,” Ann replied, kissing her quickly once more before turning toward the shower.

Anne breathed out a laugh as she returned to the bedroom and began the hunt for her scattered clothes. She pulled on her trousers and sports bra, which had been discarded near the bed. She picked up Ann’s clothes as well, depositing them in a hamper in the corner, and made the bed.

She had just picked up her undershirt from near the door when Ann emerged from the bathroom. She wore a light pink sundress, her hair done up in a loose bun and mostly dry save a few loose strands that clung to her face and neck. 

Anne pulled her shirt on over her head. “Think I’ll just wear the undershirt for now. More casual, right?”

Ann worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she walked toward her, eyeing Anne in her tight tshirt appreciatively. “If you do, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“Mm, and what actions might those be?” Anne murmured, closing the distance between them.

“Well, we may never leave this flat, for one,” Ann said shakily.

Anne hummed as she leaned in to kiss Ann’s neck. “That sounds fine to me…”

But then Anne’s stomach rumbled and she pulled away, chuckling. “Well, perhaps we _should_ eat something.”

Ann whimpered at the loss, but agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really runs directly into the next chapter (the next probably three or so chapters all run into each other), but I needed to break it off somewhere. I may eventually fiddle with where chapters break around this area once I get more written.
> 
> No _Shibden_ for a while, but fear not! We will go sailing again eventually.


	7. My Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiiiiiiiiiiiiib. Tib! _Tib_. Y’all. Tib is here. I’ve had this idea for them for several weeks now, and I’m so excited to finally introduce you to my kick-ass nonbinary relief captain Tib. More to come next chapter.
> 
> Also some major fluff. Enjoooooy.

Anne and Ann exited the flat and trotted down the stairs, entering the bustling coffee shop through a side door. Ann snatched up a menu and handed it to Anne for her to peruse while they waited in the queue. They soon approached a barista with a close-cut ginger beard and kindly face.

“Hiya, James. How’s it going today?” Ann greeted.

“Oh, the usual weekend rush,” he replied in a Scottish lilt. “How are you, ma’am?”

“Just wonderful, thank you, James. Er, this is Anne Lister, the captain of the _Shibden_. Anne, James Mackenzie,” she introduced.

Anne and James shook hands. “Good morning, Captain. I believe I’ve given you the _Shibden_ ’s coffee order a few times in the past.”

“Yes, that sounds right. Pleasure meeting you properly,” Anne replied.

“What can I get for you two this morning?”

“Could I have a medium white mocha and an avocado egg wrap?” Ann asked. “And,” she turned to Anne, “what would you like?”

“I’ll have a large black coffee, and a breakfast bap.”

“Oh! And we’ll take a dozen mixed doughnuts to go,” Ann added. Anne chuckled.

“Right, a white mocha, avocado egg wrap, black coffee, breakfast bap, and a dozen doughnuts,” James repeated.

“That’s right, thank you, James! We’ll be at my regular table.” 

“I can’t believe you remembered that silly doughnut thing,” Anne laughed as they turned away from the counter.

“Well, I can’t have your crew resenting me, now can I?” Ann replied over her shoulder as she guided Anne through the throngs of people.

Anne snorted. “I wouldn’t allow them to resent you.” The captain followed Ann up a roped-off spiral stairway to a little balcony, just big enough for one table, that looked out over the whole café.

“I don’t think that’s how resentment works,” Ann giggled as she sat down. “If anything that would make it worse!”

Anne sat down herself. “I suppose you’re right,” she allowed. “This is a nice little spot,” she said, surveying the view. “I’ve never even noticed it was here.”

Ann nodded. “It’s my one little selfish indulgence. I like to work up here. It feels more inspiring to be in the café than a boring little office.”

“You said before you were awful working in the cafe, but when I met you, you were covering for someone to get more experience. Why the change, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, well, I have anxiety. And when I first started as a teenager it was undiagnosed. It took a lot of messed up orders and, well, me sobbing in the back room before I got help. By then, though, I’d gotten into art and started doing graphic design for the company, so my parents left me be. I still do a lot of that, since I enjoy it. Now I have a therapist and take medication and have a better handle on it, so I thought I’d give working front of house a go again, when you saw me. And, erm, I’m glad I did.” She smiled shyly at Anne.

“Me, too,” Anne grinned back. “Why work in the café, though? If you own the whole company, surely you don’t need to.”

“That’s true. But, well, I don’t want to be one of those snobbish bosses who don’t understand what their employees go through. Plus I handle my anxiety better if I keep busy.”

“That’s highly commendable of you. I certainly feel like I’m a better captain because I worked my way up the ranks. ‘Climbing up the hawsepipe,’ we call it. Rather than going to a maritime academy and graduating with a licence but no practical experience to go with it. That said, I’d never want to be a deckhand again!” Anne laughed.

“When did you become _Shibden_ ’s captain?” Ann asked. “It feels like you’ve been there for as long as I can remember.”

“I started as a relief captain for my uncle, oh… eighteen years ago? I was her youngest ever captain, at twenty-four. I had come back home after a few years of working on other boats, sailing all over the world. I took over full time when my uncle retired two years after that. That must have been around when you first saw me, asking for the sponsorship. You must’ve been…” Anne’s face reddened as she did the calculations in her head, “Lord, you were only fourteen? When you said you were a teenager I’d imagined, well, that you were _legal_ at least.” 

Anne perspired at the realisation. Of course she’d known about the age gap when she started pursuing Ann (it was rather hot then, wasn’t it?), but now with this perspective she wasn’t sure. Was she cradle-robbing? Why would a young woman in her prime want to be with _her_ , practically middle-aged?

Ann reached across the table to grasp her hands. “Anne, it’s _fine_. Honestly. I’m an adult now. I know what I want.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip as she looked into Anne’s eyes.

Anne relaxed under her warm touch and gaze. The panic she had felt ebbed. Of course. She was right. Hadn’t Ann given the most enthusiastic consent every time they were together? Her heart pounded at the thought.

“Well, if it isn’t the two lovebirds!” Cat had appeared next to them, apron-clad and holding two coffees. Their hands shot apart.

Ann looked surprised. “Cat, I didn’t know you were working this morning!”

“I’m covering for Harriet. Something about a plumbing emergency? _I_ think she’s hungover,” she said smugly. “Anyway, here’re your coffees. I suspect the boring one is for the captain?”

Anne chuckled. “That’s right.”

“Thanks, Cat,” Ann said.

They each took a sip of their coffees, but Cat remained hovering at the end of the table.

“Cat, what do you want?” Ann laughed.

Cat grinned at each of them. “Oh I’m just _so_ happy for you!”

Ann flushed and buried her face in her hands, “Cat, _go away!_ ”

“ _Fine_ ,” Cat conceded, raising her hands in the air and retreating.

Ann uncovered her face, though she was still a bit pink. “Sorry about her. She gets, erm, excited.”

Anne laughed. “It’s fine. She seems like a good friend.”

“She is.”

“Will you feel less embarrassed if I tell you something embarrassing about myself?”

Ann chuckled. “Go on.”

Anne looked dramatically to either side of her, as if there was anyone to overhear them on the private balcony, and leaned across the table to whisper, “I get terribly seasick.”

“What? No!” Ann exclaimed, grinning.

“Mm. I hide it pretty well. I don’t think my crew even knows. Except Marian, probably.”

“How can you do your job?” Ann asked in wonder. “I know when I’m nauseous I just want to lay in bed all day.”

“I suppose in the same way you can deal with your anxiety,” Anne smiled gently. “I always take medication early if I know the sea state is going to be rough. I know what’ll set me off and I take steps to help control it. Sometimes, though, there’s nothing for it and you just have to heave over the side!”

Ann laughed. “Well, that’s very impressive.”

“Wow, even your food orders are predictable,” Cat had appeared again, setting down their breakfasts. “And why’ve you ordered so many doughnuts?” she asked, holding up a paper bag.

“Cat, _shut up_ ,” Ann laughed. “They’re for the _Shibden_ crew.” She blushed, sneaking a glance at Anne.

Anne smirked and took the bag from Cat.

“Oh, well, that’s nice of you,” Cat looked at them suspiciously. “Enjoy your breakfast, you two!” she said cheerily before leaving.

They tucked into their breakfasts, chatting happily between bites. The awkwardness Anne had felt completely dissipated. Rather, a warmth was filling her as they spoke. The brightness of Ann’s eyes, the exuberant smile filling her face struck Anne squarely in her heart. She had been wondering, lately, if she was growing rather too old for all of her one night stands and casual romances. She’d always gone back to Mary when she wanted a bit more feeling with her sex life, but she knew deep down that that well had long run dry. Mary would never leave Charles for her, and she needed to stop falling back into that old habit. Would Ann be the one to finally make a commitment to her?

They finished their breakfasts and coffee. Anne was shocked to find, when she checked her watch, that the morning was practically over. She couldn’t remember when she’d last lost track of the time for so long.

“Well, shall we take these over to the boat?” Anne asked, picking up the bag of doughnuts. “Then I can change, and maybe we can walk along the quay for a bit?”

Ann smiled. “That sounds nice.”

~

They strolled down to the quay hand-in-hand. The bright sun shone on them between scattered clouds, a strong breeze whipped up the waves in the distance. It was a perfect late summer day. Captain Lister was still a bit resentful that Tib had gotten such perfect weather for sailing, but she wouldn’t trade this day with Ann for anything. They walked down the pier where the _Shibden_ was docked and stepped aboard.

Anne looked apprehensively around the deck, wary of running into anyone on her sacred day off. It _was_ lunchtime, though, so with any luck everyone was eating in the galley and she could leave the bag of doughnuts, change clothes, and escape undetected. 

“Right, I’ll just drop these here and—”

“Lister, I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Anne flinched as a booming voice filled the air.

Anne slowly turned to face her relief captain. Tib Norcliffe had emerged from the pilot house, larger than life, a shit-eating grin plastered on their face. Captain Norcliffe was about Anne’s height, but burly, with wide shoulders, thick arms, and a pronounced belly. Their greying hair was cut in a sharp fade, and a sleeve of nautical tattoos covered their left arm under a faded _Shibden_ polo ( _not_ , Anne noted, a button down like the rest of the officers) with a little “they/them” pin on the lapel.

Anne resigned herself to a conversation with her boisterous friend. “Yes, well, I’m just, er, dropping these off,” she awkwardly raised the bag.

Tib snatched the bag from her hand and looked inside. “Doughnuts?” they asked loudly. Their voice, Anne thought, carrying across the entire port. “Well, I’ll be. I’ve never seen you bother with the traditions before, Lister. God knows if you had we’d all have diabetes by now.”

Anne harumphed. Ann, for her part, was looking back and forth between the two with barely disguised glee. 

“And who is this delectable creature?” Tib turned their attention to Ann, looking her up and down.

Anne shouldered herself more in front of Ann, uncomfortable with the way that Tib was looking at her girlfr— _shit, what were they?_ She hadn’t yet had a ‘define the relationship’ talk with Ann, but she was certainly feeling possessive.

“Tib, this is Ann Walker. Ann, Captain Tib Norcliffe.”

Tib took Ann’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Not Ann Walker of Crow Nest fame?”

Ann nodded, blushing. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Lister, you dog!” Tib slapped Anne roughly on the back. “She must be ten years younger than you!”

“Well, twelve…”

Tib barked out a laugh. “You two must be having a grand time. I hope _you’re_ enjoying yourself, Miss Walker,” Tib said, raising their eyebrows suggestively. “You know, I taught this one everything she knows about pleasing a woman—”

“Yes, thank you, Tib!” Anne cut in loudly. She could feel her face growing hot.

“Tell you what Lister, how about us three grab a drink after the last sail? I’d love to get to know your Miss Walker more,” they eyed Ann hungrily, “and it’s been far too long since we’ve caught up!”

“I don’t think—”

“That sounds lovely, Anne, doesn’t it?” Ann interrupted.

Anne looked at her in surprise. “Does it?”

Ann nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Well, if you’re sure—”

“Wonderful!” Tib shouted, clapping Anne on the back again. “Let’s meet at The Anchor. At 19?”

“Fine,” Anne conceded. She lowered her voice and said to Ann, “I’m just going to change, quickly, if you don’t mind.”

Unfortunately, Tib heard her. “Change! Awful late for a walk of shame, eh, Lister?” Tib grinned. “Going at it all morning, were you?”

Anne rolled her eyes. “ _Behave yourself_ ,” she hissed at Tib before heading for the pilot house.

Uncomfortable with leaving Ann and Tib alone for too long, the captain hurried into her cabin and quickly changed into a fresh pair of boxers, dark jeans, and a black tshirt. She also threw on some deodorant for good measure. When she returned to deck she found Ann and Tib laughing together as if they’d been chatting for two hours rather than two minutes.

“Ready to go, darling?” Anne asked rather forcefully.

Ann recovered and looked to Anne with dancing eyes. “Oh, all right.” She’d barely gotten the words out before Anne had taken her hand and pulled her toward the gangway. “It was lovely meeting you, Tib!” Ann called as Anne practically dragged her off of the boat.

“You as well, love!” Tib called back.

Ann laced her fingers with Anne’s as they walked back up the pier. “You called me ‘darling,’” Ann said teasingly.

“Did I?” Anne thought back. _Oh_. She had. It had come out so naturally. “Is that… all right?”

“Yes, I, er, I liked it.” Ann smiled.

Anne chuckled. “Are you sure? About tonight? Tib can be… well, they can be a lot.”

Ann giggled. “They seem fun.”

“That’s one word for it. Do you want to spend the whole day together? I know we’ve had, well, a bit of a whirlwind. If you need space, please, let me know.”

“Oh, no. I, erm, I like spending time with you,” Ann said, giving her hand a light squeeze. “But same to you, if you… get fed up of me,” she looked down, retreating into herself as Anne noticed she did sometimes. Now that Anne knew she had anxiety, she understood better.

“Hey.” Anne stopped and turned to face her, bending her knees slightly to meet Ann’s eyes at her level. “You mustn’t have such a poor opinion of yourself. I enjoy spending time with you as well.” She smiled.

Ann smiled back and nodded. They continued ambling along the quay, no particular destination in mind.

“It’s such a gorgeous day,” Anne remarked, “how would you feel about having a little picnic?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Ann said. “I have some wine and cheese at my flat. We can grab that and a blanket and set up in the park?”

“Perfect.”

They walked back to Ann’s flat where they gathered the supplies, stuffing it all into a backpack of Ann’s that Anne insisted upon carrying, despite it being a garishly bright pink.

The benefit of the small seaside town was that everything was nearby. They walked back down to the harbour and into a grassy park on a hill overlooking the water, found a spot under a tree, and laid out the blanket.

Dappled sunlight filtered through the tree’s branches as they sat. Anne poured helpings of wine into two travel mugs and Ann sliced up cheese and bread. They sipped and munched while Anne pointed out the various boats chugging through the harbour or bobbing in the anchorage. She explained what they did and how to identify them based on their shape and equipment. When the _Shibden_ got underway, Anne described what was happening on board as the distant little sails crept up the masts. Ann listened with interest, leaning against Anne’s shoulder as she spoke.

Cheese obliterated, half-empty bottle of wine re-corked and tossed aside, the two lay back on the blanket, gazing up at the swaying green leaves. Anne folded her hands behind her head and Ann rested her head on Anne’s shoulder.

“So, I was wondering…” Ann started.

“Mmm?”

“Are we… are we dating?”

Anne looked down into Ann’s beautiful, earnest face. “I think, if you’d like to, then, yes?”

Ann beamed, leaning in to press her lips to Anne’s. Anne brought her hand up to caress the side of her face. The kiss was soft and sweet. It tasted of wine and promise. 

“So does that make you my girlfriend?” Anne grinned.

Ann hummed. “I like that. ‘Captain Lister’s girlfriend.’ Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Anne agreed. 

“What about you?”

“Oh, I…” Anne scrunched her nose. “I don’t really like ‘girlfriend’ for me. It’s too… gendered. And I’m too old.”

“You’re not _too old_ ,” Ann chided, nuzzling into Anne’s neck.

Anne scoffed. “I _am_ twelve years older than you, young miss,” she said while trying to calm her beating heart as Ann’s lips brushed her throat. “I suppose… ‘partner’ is fine. Wish we had better language.”

Ann settled her head back on Anne’s shoulder, her arm on Anne’s chest, her fingers tracing along Anne's collarbone. “Maybe you can just be _my captain_.”

Anne chuckled, relaxing into the warmth of Ann’s body pressed against hers, the gentle summer’s breeze tickling her skin, the sound of the sea crashing against the shore.

And that is how Captain Anne Lister found herself falling asleep at a seaside park with Ann Walker curled into her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that all of us have collectively headcanoned Tib as even more of a rake than Anne, and I am _here for it_. A lot of sailors are high-functioning alcoholics, so that’s the route I’m going for Tib. Responsible and sober for work, but once ashore you’ll find them drinking ‘til bar-close.
> 
> This will, again, run directly into the next chapter.


	8. Everyone is Tib’s Type

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did a read-through of everything up to this point and made a few edits. Nothing major. But please, let me know if you see a typo, I will be so grateful! Also again requesting my English readers let me know if anything, whether in dialogue or narration, sounds particularly American and out of place. And if you can think of any town that this place may resemble, I’d like to settle at least which coast this is set on for some more sailing adventures in future!

When Anne roused, the sun was low in the sky and Ann was softly snoring against her. She checked her watch and started. It was nearly 18:00. They’d slept for over two hours.

“Ann?” she whispered, gently nudging her awake.

“Mmm,” Ann mumbled, settling closer into Anne.

“Ann, darling, it’s almost time to meet Tib. We can get to the pub a bit early and grab a bite to eat?”

Ann yawned, “All right,” and stretched.

They got up (Anne’s knees cracking as she did so, at which Ann giggled) and packed away the blanket and rubbish. The pub was just a short walk away, about equidistant between the _Shibden_ ’s dock and Crow Nest. The Anchor was the _Shibden_ crew’s preferred pub, being nautically (though, importantly, not garishly) decorated as well as being exceptionally cheap.

Anne and Ann entered the pub and sat at the corner of the bar. They ordered two pints of lager and a plate of chips and gravy from the barman, a scraggly-bearded man named Pickels, who Anne greeted as an old friend. The captain waved Ann away when she went to pull out her wallet, insisting that it was her turn after breakfast and the picnic.

They sipped their beers and chatted over their chips. It was a quiet Sunday night at The Anchor. Soft folk music played in the background and there were only a few other patrons besides themselves. 

“How did you and Tib meet?” Ann asked. 

“We were in the same yachtmaster’s class,” Anne answered. “We were the only obviously queer people in a room full of straight men, so we became fast friends.”

“Did you, erm, did you date?” Ann asked.

Anne laughed, taking a sip from her pint. “I suppose, if you can even call it that. It didn’t last long. We’re both… well, we’re both tops. Which doesn’t really work in practice. I was young. Tib helped me figure out the difference between what I wanted and what I wanted to be. They’ve been my best mate over the years. When I took over the _Shibden_ full time, they were the first person I called to be my relief captain.”

“I suppose I didn’t realise the _Shibden_ has other captains," Ann said. "But it makes sense. You need time off as much as anyone else.”

“Mm,” Anne nodded. “Most of our business is on weekends. We all get one day off a week. The crew rotates, one or two off a day, so the boat can keep operating. Mondays are reserved for maintenance, and no one has them off. I mostly do office work when we’re not sailing.” Anne shrugged.

Their conversation was interrupted when the door of the pub crashed open, Tib Norcliffe filling the frame. Anne then wished the pub _had_ been more crowded, that the music _was_ louder. Anything to cloak Tib’s booming voice and imposing presence.

They spotted the couple and walked toward the bar. As Tib approached, Anne’s eyes widened in shock.

“ _Tib!_ ” she shouted, looking pointedly at the prominent bulge in Tib’s trousers.

“What?” Tib raised a brow.

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing?” she spluttered, waving her arm in the direction of Tib’s crotch.

“Trying to get laid, Lister, what do you think?” they replied casually.

Anne glowered. _God_ , Tib could be so embarrassing. Rough and crude and everything Anne tried not to be (at least, in public). “I _thought_ you wanted to catch up,” she muttered, taking a large gulp from her pint. She was going to have to be a lot less sober to deal with Tib on the prowl.

“Yeah, well, I can do both, can’t I?” They sat at the corner next to Anne and waved Pickels over.

While Tib was distracted with their order, Ann, pink-faced, pulled Anne close to speak into her ear, “Do you… do you have,” she nodded her head toward Tib’s lap.

Anne’s mouth went dry as she realised what Ann was asking. 

“A… a strap-on?” she whispered.

Ann nodded, flushing even further and looking into Anne’s eyes eagerly.

A flood of arousal rushed between Anne’s legs as she envisioned taking Ann with her cock. She had the wherewithal to nod ‘yes,’ and Ann placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

Once in her mind, Anne could think of nothing else. She stood abruptly, barstool scraping against the floor, and reached for Ann’s hands, trying unsuccessfully to pull her to her feet.

“Oi, Lister, where d’you think you’re going?” Tib asked.

“I…” Anne stared at Ann, who was smiling at her mischievously.

“Sit down, dearest,” Ann said, pulling her back into her seat.

Anne barely noticed the lurch of her heart at the nickname. Her mind was focused much lower in her body. If Anne had had any desire to spend the evening chatting with Tib before, she had even less now. All she wanted was to get Ann back to her cabin aboard the _Shibden_ as quickly as possible. But Ann seemed to have other plans.

She leaned around Anne to address Tib. “How was your day, Tib?”

“Oh, marvellous!” they exclaimed. “Perfect breeze all day. The passengers seemed to enjoy it, I got _two_ phone numbers!” They winked. “The _Shibden_ ’s been looking great, Lister, I take it you’re happy with your bosun this year?”

Anne shook her head, registered what Tib had said. “I—yes, Washington’s been doing a fine job,” she acknowledged.

“Fantastic! You know, I need a little varnish work done on my boat if you can spare a deckhand who wants to make some extra cash.” They took swig of the stout Pickels brought over.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Anne mumbled, slumping in her seat and taking a sip of her own beer, resigned to staying at the pub. “I wish you wouldn’t wear the uniform to the pub, Tib.” She nodded at the _Shibden_ polo Tib was still wearing. “It really gives the wrong impression.”

It was generally accepted that crews didn’t wear their uniform while out drinking. If they made fools of themselves, it wouldn’t as easily reflect on the boat they worked for. 

“Are you kidding? This thing is a babe magnet. Birds see the word ‘captain’ slapped across your chest and their legs fall right open. Isn’t that right, Miss Walker?” Tib grinned at Ann.

Ann blushed and giggled. “Well, I mean...”

“Tib,” Anne muttered warningly. 

“Oh come off it, your Miss Walker must be a firecracker to have tamed you, Lister.”

“I’m not… she isn’t…” Anne groaned and turned to Ann. “ _Don’t_ listen to them, darling—”

“See!" Tib interjected. "‘Darling’ this and that. You must be very special, Miss Walker, for Lister to be using pet names. She doesn’t do that with any old tart.”

“Tib! _Lord_ , calm down will you? It’s… well,” Anne lowered her voice as much as she physically could, “it’s only been three days.”

She whispered in vain, however, for Tib then exclaimed, “ _THREE DAYS?_ ” loud enough to shake the whole pub. “Three days, Lister, and you two are already all loved up, holding hands and calling each other ‘darling’? Bloody hell, have you moved in and got cats yet?”

Anne did _not_ blush, but she couldn’t deny that her face _was_ hot. Fortuitously, she was rescued by an outsider’s voice.

“Ann?”

Ann and Anne both turned to find Cat and another woman standing behind them.

“Cat? Delia? What are you doing here?” Ann asked in surprise, getting up to greet the two with a hug.

“Delia had a rough day at work," Cat said, "so we thought we’d have a pint. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Anne, and—”

Tib made a beeline for the women. “Why _hello_ there. Captain Tib Norcliffe, they/them. And who might you _delightful_ ladies be?”

Cat had a look of shock and glee on her face and Delia was turning positively crimson.

Anne slumped forward, resting her elbows on the bar and holding her face in her palms as Ann made introductions.

“Tib, this is my friend, Cat, and her sister, Delia. Cat, Delia, this is Anne’s friend, Tib.”

“A _pleasure_.” Tib took each woman’s hand in turn and kissed their knuckles.

Anne said into Ann’s ear when she sat down again, “You know, Tib _will_ try to sleep with your friends. And quite possibly you. And quite possibly all of us together.”

Ann chuckled. “Well, I’d like to see them try with Cat. She’s the straightest person I know, and that’s saying _a lot_.”

“What are you ladies having? It’s on me. Come, join us.” Tib pulled out the barstools next to where they were sitting, getting the sisters settled and brushing their hand along each of their backs before returning to their own seat.

“So much for ‘catching up,’” Anne muttered as Tib’s attention was turned entirely to the sisters sitting next to them.

“Oh, this is going to be _hilarious_ ,” Ann laughed before draining the last of her pint. “Do you want another?”

“I suppose, if we’re sticking around to watch this train-wreck,” she agreed, signalling to Pickels to refill their glasses.

Anne and Ann continued chatting while nursing their pints, buzzed and warm from the beer, but not nearly as pissed as Tib was becoming as they progressed from stout to whiskey and flirted shamelessly with Cat and Delia.

Cat merely looked amused and shot occasional glances to Ann, but Delia—to everyone’s surprise—was hanging on Tib’s every word and slowly edging closer to them throughout the night.

After an excruciating hour, though, Anne had had enough. It was growing late, she had to work the next day, and she was still hoping to persuade Ann back to her cabin. Anne settled up with Pickels and the two pushed their empty pint glasses away before standing, the motion catching Tib’s attention.

“C’mon,” Tib slurred, turning toward them, “have ‘nother round!”

“No, Tib. We all have to work tomorrow,” Anne said brusquely, shouldering Ann’s backpack and edging toward the door.

“Oh, sod that,” Tib waved their hand dismissively, “I don’t.”

“Yes, well, the rest of us do, so—”

“My shift doesn’t start until afternoon tomorrow,” Delia interrupted, placing her hand on Tib’s arm and biting her lip.

Ann, Anne, and Cat all stared at them as Tib smiled smugly and snaked an arm around Delia’s waist.

“Well then, lemme get you ‘nother pint, love.”

Cat got up and stood next to Anne and Ann, tugging her purse over her shoulder. “Should we… should we leave them?” she asked warily. 

“Tib may be a drunk and a skirt-chaser, but they’re, well, I know it’s hard to believe, but they’re respectful at least.” Anne put in. “Delia hasn’t had that much to drink, has she?”

“No,” Cat answered, “she’s been too busy making eyes at Tib. Blimey, I never thought she’d… Well, Tib’s not exactly her type, y’know?”

“Trust me," Anne said, "if anyone is even the least bit receptive, Tib can be everyone’s type. And _everyone_ is Tib’s type.”

Ann laughed. “They certainly are… well, charming’s not exactly the right word. Charismatic? Certainly confident.”

Anne scoffed. “The word I think you’re looking for is ‘cocky,’” she then muttered under her breath, “in more ways than one.”

Ann giggled, blushing.

The trio spared a final glance back at Tib and Delia, only to find the two _heavily_ making out, Tib pressing Delia against the bar, one hand in her hair and the other on her ass.

Cat grimaced. “They’d better go to Tib’s. I’ve got the early shift tomorrow and I do _not_ want to hear my sister shagging all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else think Delia was a bit receptive to Anne’s flirting in the show? I feel like we don’t see her much in fic, and I finally got around to watching Normal People and Daisy Edgar-Jones is 😍
> 
> I wrote this and the smut that follows intending it to be one chapter, but it was entirely too long, so I hope you’ll forgive me splitting it into two shorter-than-usual chapters. The good news is that the next chapter is alllll smut.
> 
> Shoutout to Canary for making me crave chips and gravy since however long ago that was. Very Upset it is not a thing in the States, and home-made chips/fries are just not as good. Will a kind Canadian send me poutine?


	9. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I write smut _without_ feelings? Signs point to no. Sorry the title is a spoiler, but like. We been knew.

Resigning Tib and Delia to their fate, Anne, Ann, and Cat stepped outside the pub. Twinkling stars filled the dark sky. The night air was cooler than it had been in the day, though still comfortable.

“Are you going toward the café, Ann?” Cat asked.

“Oh, erm,” Ann looked at Anne, “I think we’re going back to the _Shibden_?”

Anne’s stomach flipped. “Yes, I erm, wanted to... show Ann something,” she finished lamely.

Cat laughed. “I’m sure you do,” she winked. “Have a good night,” she gave Ann a hug. “It was nice seeing you again, Captain Lister.”

Anne chuckled, “You too, Cat.”

“Bye, Cat,” Ann said.

They parted ways, and Anne and Ann began the short walk back to the _Shibden_.

“So, you’re really interested, then? In… in what you said earlier?” Anne asked, warmth spreading through her body at the thought.

“Yes, I’m, er, I’ve never, well, done that before, but…” Ann flushed then leant closer to whisper in Anne’s ear, “I think you’d look hot with a cock between your legs.”

All of the blood in Anne’s body rushed straight to her core. She squeezed Ann’s hand and quickened her pace, taking long strides in the direction of the pier. 

Ann laughed, jogging to keep up. “Anne, slow down, I can’t walk as fast as you can.”

“ _Well!_ ” Anne replied, flustered, but easing her pace by a fraction, “Don’t _say_ things like that if you don’t want me to _hurry._ ”

Ann laughed breathlessly, still struggling to keep pace with the long-legged captain.

It wasn’t long before they reached the _Shibden_ ’s dock. The boat was dark and quiet when they stepped aboard. A red glow emanated from the night-vision friendly lights left on in each of the companionways. The breeze from the day had calmed with the sunset and the waves slapped gently against the hull.

The captain led the way into the pilot house, quickly pulling Ann into her cabin, shutting the door behind them, and pushing Ann against it. She wasted no time in crashing their lips together. The kiss was rough and sloppy, a mirror of Tib and Delia from moments before, though at least in private. 

Anne forced a knee between Ann’s legs and dragged her lips down to bite and suck at her neck. Delicious whines and moans fell from Ann’s throat and her hips rolled against her knee. The warm heat of Ann’s centre on her leg spurred Anne on, and she broke away to pull Ann’s dress over her head. 

Her calloused hands briefly caressed the soft skin of Ann’s torso before reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and pull it down her arms. Anne cupped her breasts, massaged the soft flesh, pinched her hard nipples all while she sucked and bit where Ann’s shoulder met her neck.

Ann whimpered, tugging weakly at the hem of Anne’s shirt, and Anne pulled back to shuck it over her head. Ann’s soft hands were everywhere. Tracing along her abdomen, sides, back, tangling into her hair. Pulling her close for another searing kiss.

They broke apart, gasping for air, hearts pounding, pupils blown.

“Do you,” Ann panted, “do you, erm, have it?” Her chest was flushed, her hair mussed.

Anne nodded quickly and knelt to reach under her bunk, pulling out a plain wooden box and setting it on the desk. She opened it, Ann peering around her to look inside. Within the box was a black dildo and a pair of black boxer briefs, as well as a bottle of lube.

“What’s, erm, what’s that?” Ann asked, pointing to an additional piece of silicone at the base of the dildo. 

“Ah, well, that ensures that I receive pleasure as well. During, you know,” she thrusted her hips forward. 

Ann giggled, biting her lip. She stretched up to place a gentle kiss to Anne’s jaw. The urgency from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a warm excitement between the two. 

“Are you still sure?” Anne asked. “We can stop any time, if you don’t like it.”

Ann reached down and began undoing the buckle of Anne’s belt. “I’m sure,” she breathed into her neck.

Electricity sparked through Anne’s body. She fumbled with helping Ann open her trousers, shoving them down her legs and toeing off her shoes. Ann’s gentle hands caressed the skin of her belly, hooking into the waistband of her boxers and pushing them down. Anne kicked them off and retrieved the briefs from the box, pulling them up and fixing the dildo in place. 

Ann watched her with gleaming eyes, pushed her own knickers down her legs, then surged forward, kissing her roughly and reaching down to grasp Anne’s cock. Anne groaned at the delicious pressure on her clit, her arousal building low in her belly. Ann manoeuvred them until the backs of her knees hit the bed and Anne sat down heavily. 

And then, Ann knelt in front of her. Anne didn’t think there was ever a sight so arousing as a naked Ann Walker on her knees. She placed gentle kisses to the insides of Anne’s knees, then spread her legs, tugged her hips forward, and licked a broad swathe up her cock. 

Anne moaned as Ann grasped the base of the cock and drove it into her core, rubbing the base against her swollen clit. And then Ann did the hottest thing Anne’s sure she’s ever seen, and took the tip of her cock into her mouth, her eyes meeting Anne’s. 

“Fuck,” Anne groaned, falling back onto her elbows and rolling her hips in time with Ann’s movements.

The pressure on her clit was exquisite. The sight of Ann’s blonde head bobbing over her cock electrifying. The warm pressure inside her belly spread quickly, and it took only a shameful few more strokes before her release crashed through her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Anne gasped again as she shuddered through her orgasm.

She fell back against the bed, breathing heavily. Ann trailed soft kisses up her body until she reached her lips. Anne returned the kiss slowly, reaching up to weave her fingers through Ann’s hair. 

“Are you, er, sure you’ve never done that before?” she panted.

Ann chuckled, pressed her lips to her jaw. “Of course I am.”

“Well, you’re,” she cleared her throat, “ _very_ good at it.”

Ann hummed, nuzzling into her neck and nibbling at her earlobe.

When Anne had regained the use of her limbs, she flipped Ann over, resulting in a gasp and a giggle. She pressed Ann’s wrists into the mattress and kissed her deeply, spreading her legs with her knees and grinding her cock against her centre. Ann moaned, bucking her hips and weakly struggling to free her hands to no avail.

Anne trailed her lips down to Ann’s breasts, nipping at them then taking a nipple into her mouth, working it to a hard point before giving the other the same attention. Ann panted and writhed below her, soft whines and pleas flowing from her lips.

When Anne felt she’d teased her enough, she released her hands, spread her thighs apart, and shuffled closer on her knees to line up her cock with her wet folds.

“Ready?” her voice was low and rough.

“Yes, Anne, _please_ ,” Ann whined.

Anne smirked and slowly pushed into her. Her cock slid in with ease, no need for lube with Ann’s arousal dripping onto the bedding. She watched her cock disappear into Ann, wanting nothing more than to pound into her with abandon, but she held back, giving her time to become accustomed to the feel of it.

Ann let out a low whine as she was filled, wrapping her legs around Anne’s hips and digging her heels into the small of her back. “You feel so good,” she whimpered. 

_Fuck_. Anne pulled out slightly then pushed back in, beginning a slow rhythm. The base rubbed against her sensitive clit with every thrust, and she hoped she could hold her own release back for Ann’s sake. She dipped her head to kiss Ann’s neck as she drove into her, incrementally increasing her pace.

Ann panted and whined, bucking her hips to meet her, blunt nails scratching down her back, her chest flushed and eyes screwed shut. It was intoxicating to watch, and Anne could feel herself hovering on the edge of another orgasm. She shifted her weight to rest fully on one arm and reached down to find Ann’s clit. 

Unintelligible murmurs fell from Ann’s lips, her muscles tensing as she approached her peak, until—

“I love you.” 

The words came out in a single breath, so soft Anne almost didn’t hear them, but they startlingly catapulted her over the edge. She shuddered, grinding roughly into Ann as the waves crashed over her. It would have been embarrassing if Ann hadn’t come then as well, seizing against her and crying out.

Anne collapsed on top of her, gasping for air, their sweaty skin sticking together. When she’d regained enough strength, she pulled out and rolled onto her back. They breathed heavily for a few moments more, then turned to look at one another. 

“Wow.”

“That was—”

“Incredible.”

They chuckled. Anne leant over to kiss Ann softly, cradling her head in her hand. They grinned at each other when they parted and clasped hands, basking in the warm glow of their lovemaking.

When Anne felt her energy had restored enough, she said, “I’m just, er, going to give this a wash,” and gestured at her cock, which remained glistening proudly in the air. Ann nodded.

She rolled off of the bunk and to her feet, shucked the pants, and pulled on a loose pair of boxers and a tshirt. Ann watched her change with appreciative eyes, biting her bottom lip and smiling. Anne shook her head, amused by Ann’s admiring gaze, and gathered the sticky dildo, boxers, and a towel into her arms. 

Anne pressed a soft kiss to Ann’s forehead, muttered, “Be right back,” then slipped out of the cabin.

On the way to the head, in a moment of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness (though too late to count for anything), Anne glanced at the open logbook on the chart table, illuminated by the overhead red light, and confirmed that the last boat check of the day had been completed before she and Ann had stepped aboard. With the noises they had been making, she _was_ rather grateful.

Normally the captain wouldn’t give a rat’s arse if her crew heard her shagging (they were all adults! At least she had a door, the crew had to put up with mere curtains around their bunks for privacy), but Ann, bafflingly, seemed to care about her crew’s comfort, and she would hate for her to feel embarrassed.

She stole into the head, washed the dildo and briefs in the sink, and gave herself a quick rinse in the shower for good measure.

When Anne returned to her cabin, she found Ann curled up and snoring under the blanket. She smiled at the sight, quietly put away the dildo, hung up the boxers and towel, then crawled into bed. She wrapped her arms around Ann, holding her close against her chest. 

“I love you,” she murmured into Ann’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back to my little house in the forest, complete with spotty internet connection, so I’m posting this from my phone! Please excuse any typos (and also let me know if you see any)!


	10. Right. Work.

_Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

The buzzing of Anne’s alarm stirred her from her slumber. She flung an arm blindly at her desk, reaching for her phone, before she realised that it was probably still in the pocket of her trousers. She huffed, rolling out of the bunk and to the sole semi-gracefully. She found her trousers crumpled in a corner and dug her phone out from the pocket, silencing the alarm with a sigh. 

Captain Lister usually awoke just before her 0600 alarm, but something about having Ann’s warm, soft body pressed against her had been sending her into uncommonly deep sleep over the last few days. She looked at Ann, _her girlfriend_ , curled on her side and snoring softly. She considered crawling back into bed, but knew that now she was awake she would stay up, and she didn’t want to wake Ann from her peaceful slumber. Besides, she had a lot of journaling to catch up on.

So the captain quietly dressed, pulling on a pair of black Carhartts and a black tshirt and slipping on her boots. She shoved her clothes from the previous day into her laundry bag and picked up Ann’s discarded clothing as well, carefully folding them and placing them on the end of the bunk. She tip-toed to the door and opened it slowly to prevent any creaks, slipping outside and closing it just as carefully. 

After a brief stop at the head, she strode to the galley companionway and descended the ladder, stepping over Argus who lay sleeping at its base. The sounds of Cordingly humming along to her upbeat morning swing music filled the otherwise empty compartment. 

“Morning, Cordingly,” Anne said as she grabbed two mugs from the bulkhead. 

“Good morning Captain,” Beth looked up from the potatoes she was chopping. “Did you have a good day off?”

The captain smiled as she thought back on the day spent with Ann. “I did. I trust everything went smoothly with Captain Norcliffe yesterday?” she asked as she filled the mugs with coffee.

“Of course, you know how the crew love Tib,” Beth answered.

“Mm.”

Anne didn’t quite understand how Tib got on with the crew so well. There was a hierarchy on board for a reason, and overly friendly captains did not garner respect. But, she supposed, Tib was only there once a week, so it couldn’t do much harm.

The captain took up the mugs and went back on deck. She sipped from her own coffee and looked around, frowning at the cirrus clouds in the sky. She returned to the pilot house and studied the logbook. The barometric pressure had slowly dropped over the course of the previous day. The cold front she had been eyeing was indeed approaching. Probably overnight or the next day.

She shifted the mugs to hold in one hand and crept back into her cabin. Ann was still snoring, rather louder than she had been earlier, which Anne chuckled at. Anne carefully set the mugs down on her desk and pulled out the chair. She sat down, plucked her journal from the shelf over the desk, and began scribbling away. 

She certainly had a lot to write. She hadn’t had the chance to journal since her speedy romance with Ann had begun. Her hand flew across the page, reminiscing on every moment with Ann (and the weather conditions she could recall, thankfully the ship’s log could fill in any blanks in that regard). In one hour and twelve minutes, Anne had completed her journal. She shut the book and placed it back on the shelf, glancing over at Ann, who still lay snoring.

The captain turned her attention to the laptop on her desk. She opened it and clicked through the half-dozen or so weather websites she used. Rain would definitely be coming the next day. It wasn’t necessarily a problem for her or the crew, but rain tended to drop ticket sales.

Finally, at 0748, Ann began to stir. She shifted, reaching an arm out before slowly blinking her eyes open. Anne got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bunk.

“Good morning, darling,” she said.

“Good morning,” Ann yawned, stretching languorously. She smiled at Anne, then her eyes flicked down to Anne’s lips and she tilted her chin slightly upward.

Anne grinned and leant down to press a soft kiss to Ann’s lips. Ann hummed into the kiss, reaching up to run her hand through Anne’s hair.

They parted, smiling dopily at one another. 

“I’m afraid your coffee’s gone cold,” Anne apologised, “but breakfast is in eleven minutes, if you’d like to come down. Cordingly always makes plenty.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Ann said. 

Ann sat up fully, the bedding falling down to her waist, and Anne couldn’t help her eyes wandering to her still-bare chest.

Ann swatted her playfully with the back of her hand. “Behave!” she admonished.

Anne jerked her gaze back up to Ann’s face, smiling guiltily. Ann giggled, reaching for her bra from the neat pile of clothes Anne had left at the end of the bunk. She laughed at Anne’s exaggerated frown as she put it on.

She chewed her lip in thought, then looked at Anne. “Would you, erm… have some pants I could borrow? I’m afraid mine are in no fit state to be worn again,” Ann blushed.

Anne chuckled. “Of course. I only have boxers, if that’s all right?”

Ann nodded, and Anne retrieved a fresh pair of boxer-briefs from her seabag under the bunk. She handed them to Ann, who stood to pull them up. They were black, of course, and fit Ann a bit tighter around the bum and looser around the leg than they did Anne. 

Anne licked her lips, _intensely_ aroused by the sight of Ann in her lacy pastel bra and _Anne's_ briefs. She lunged forward, peppering Ann’s face with kisses, brushing her hair back to trail her lips down her neck.

“Oh.” Anne faltered and pulled back. A purple-ish mark had bloomed on Ann’s neck near her shoulder. “Would you, er, like a scarf, or…?”

Ann looked at her in confusion. “Why, it’s summer?”

“It’s just, you, well. It appears I may have been a little, er, indiscreet. In my attentions. Last night,” she said stiltedly.

Ann’s brow furrowed. “What on earth are you talking about, Anne?

“You have a hickey, darling,” she spelt out.

“Oh.” A pink tinge crept across Ann’s cheeks. She spun in a circle, but there was no mirror in the captain’s cabin. She completed the revolution, facing Anne. “Where, erm, where is it?”

Anne placed her hand on Ann’s shoulder and gently stroked the spot with her thumb. “Just here. I’m sorry.”

Ann shook her head, reaching up to cover Anne’s hand with her own. “It’s fine, really. I wouldn’t change last night for anything.” She smiled. “I’ll just, er, keep my hair down.” 

Ann completed dressing and they exited the cabin. The captain showed her to the head, rattling off the meticulously detailed instructions in the operation of a marine toilet, which Ann blanched at, before Anne said that it was all written down on a placard on the bulkhead.

They went into the galley, Ann following the captain down the ladder. The crew’s chatter died down when they appeared, a hush falling over the compartment. Anne showed Ann where the plates were kept, and they loaded up from the serving trays of eggs, bacon, potatoes, sausages, and toast that Cordingly had laid out in the galley.

While they were getting their food, several of the crew quietly shuffled spots at the tables so that deckhands sat at one and officers at the other. The captain so seldom joined them for meals, they usually sat anywhere they pleased. But when Captain Lister was present, she made her preference for dining by rank known.

The captain appeared indifferent to the awkward silence that filled the space. Ann looked around nervously, but Anne guided her to the officer’s table, and they sat down on the outside bench across from Washington, John, and Marian. 

Ann observed the shuffling crew who were prodding uncomfortably at their breakfasts. “Good morning,” she said shyly.

Marian smiled at her kindly. “Good morning, Miss Walker, how are you?”

“Oh! Erm, I’m very well, thank you…?”

“I’m Marian, Anne’s sister.” Anne coughed and Marian rolled her eyes. “ _The captain’s_ sister, then. And Third Officer. _Captain_ ,” she looked pointedly at Anne, “are you going to introduce the crew to your…” Marian trailed off, unsure of what to call Ann. None of Anne’s previous… _visitors_ had made it down to breakfast with the crew, though, so this one must really be special. 

Anne looked skyward then stood abruptly, clearing her throat. “Everyone, this is Ann Walker. She’s my girlfriend. I daresay you’ll be seeing her a lot more around the boat, so please be kind and respectful to her. Thank you.” She sat back down.

With the tension somewhat eased, the crew mumbled greetings to Ann. The chatter built back up as they returned to their previous conversations, though slightly more reserved and appropriate with the captain in attendance. Anne and Ann tucked into their breakfasts. 

“Oh, I was going to ask,” Anne turned to Ann, “how do you take your coffee?”

“Oh, usually with a splash of milk and two sugars,” Ann answered.

“Would you like some? Or tea? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before. I’m so used to taking it black myself.”

“I’ll have a coffee, thank you. And it’s fine, I really don’t mind it any way. I usually try it black when I’m testing the new blends.”

Anne smiled and nodded before getting up and pouring herself and Ann fresh cups. 

Ann thanked her when she returned, taking a sip. She smacked her lips, brow furrowed. “I forgot that you get last season’s blends. I wonder… I’m sure I can get you the current blends, if you’d like?”

“Oh.” Anne’s stomach twisted as she recalled her initial greedy intentions with Ann. “Only if you want, it really doesn’t matter.”

“It’s no problem,” Ann smiled, placing her hand on Anne’s knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze before she continued eating.

Anne’s heart ached. Ann was so kind and generous. Certainly the most lovely human being she’d ever met. She _did_ love her. Truly. And she determined to say as much the next opportunity that presented itself (while Ann was awake).

The crew finished eating and got up to wash their dishes and tidy the galley in a flurry of activity. They moved around each other in a chaotic but well-choreographed dance: washing, drying, and putting away dishes; storing leftovers or leaving them out to snack on later; wiping down counters; and sweeping the sole.

The captain took Ann’s dishes and quickly washed them along with her own before they made a hasty retreat back to deck and out of the crew’s way. They returned to the pilot house and captain’s cabin, where Ann gathered her belongings, shouldering her rucksack.

“I suppose it’s time for work,” Anne murmured.

Ann nodded. They stared at each other wistfully for a moment before Anne leaned in to press a soft kiss to Ann’s lips. 

They parted, and Anne steeled herself. Looking into Ann’s eyes she said, “I love you.”

The biggest smile spread on Ann’s face, she pulled Anne in for another kiss, deeper, and full of emotion. When they parted again, foreheads resting against each other, she replied, “I love you, too.”

~

Captain Lister tapped a pen against the desk absentmindedly. She stared with glazed eyes at the computer in her office, an email from the charter client for Friday open in the browser. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t drag her mind away from Ann. _Ann_. This unassuming little woman who had somehow managed to completely unhinge her. 

How had she once thought that she could use Ann simply for a coffee deal? That she wouldn’t get attached to this kind, good-natured human, who seemed to genuinely love Anne for who she was? Not in spite of her job, or _because_ of her job, or because she was a good lay ( _well_ , she hoped that factored into it at least a little bit). But Ann cared for _her_.

Plus, she was _Gorgeous_. Positively stunning. Her luscious golden hair, pale freckled skin, _perfect_ tits—

She shook her head. Right. Work. She picked up her phone and dialed The Anchor.

“Pickels? Captain Lister here, I need a full bar and a bartender for the _Shibden_ on Friday.”

~

Ann sat at her table in the café on her laptop, staring at a blank screen that would hopefully become a poster for the autumn specials to be featured next month. She had gone home, showered, and changed before setting up in the café, all in a daze, still reeling from Anne’s profession of love.

How had all of her wildest dreams come true in such a short space of time? She couldn’t believe she’d had the courage to speak to Anne, to _finally_ go sailing, that Anne had flirted with _her_ (well, she _had_ heard the rumours, so that wasn’t actually too surprising). But that Anne had reciprocated her feelings, that she hadn’t just slept with her and thrown her aside like all the stories. That she _cared_ for her. Anne Lister seemed to bring out Ann’s confidence and bravery, qualities she had always thought she’d lacked.

Plus, Anne was _so_ handsome. The masculine cut of her clothes, her toned muscles, her deep and sultry voice—

She shook her head. Right. _Work_. This poster wasn’t going to create itself.

~

Anne sat on her bunk and fell back. The dullest maintenance day in history was finally over. She’d sorted out the bookings for Friday’s charter (still thanking God that the client had agreed to cancel the band); sent out emails to all of the passengers who had already bought tickets for Tuesday and Wednesday, warning them that the _Shibden_ would still go sailing in the rain, so they’d better come prepared; and argued with the board, as per usual. She also daydreamed about Ann. _A lot_.

After tea and a shower she’d returned to her cabin, which somehow felt empty without Ann in it. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it, contemplating calling Ann. What good fortune it was, then, that at that very moment a text from Ann Walker herself buzzed onto the screen.

 _Come over?_ 😚

~

“What do you think about Cap’s new bird?” Rachel asked.

The _Shibden_ crew had gathered in the galley after work and tea and tidying up from work and tea. Rachel, Joe, Eugénie, and Tom were playing Hearts while Marian knitted in the corner (occasionally looking over Joe’s shoulder and tutting at the cards he was playing). Sam and John had just left for The Anchor, the rest of the crew (save Marian, who was on duty) agreeing to meet them once they’d finished their game.

“I dunno,” replied Joe, placing a card down. “She seems nice. Quiet.”

“Ha!” Rachel laughed. “Quiet. You didn’t hear them shagging Friday Night. _Or_ Saturday morning.” She slapped the last card of the trick down, at which Tom groaned, reaching for the pile. “We are going to have to be a lot more strategic about our boat checks when she’s aboard.”

“You English are such prudes,” Eugénie scoffed. “So what if they have sex? Go have some yourself if you’re so bothered.” 

“Well, it’s not so easy for some of us,” Tom grumbled, starting the next trick. “How does this town _not_ have a gay bar?”

Joe laughed, “It’s an old fishing village, mate. What did you expect?”

“That _it's an old fishing village!_ ” Tom exclaimed. “Fishermen are _really_ gay. But apparently none of the ones here. My nearest Grindr match is 40 kilometres away.”

“Why don’t you ask the captain where they gay bars are?” Joe asked, tongue in cheek, but his face fell when he looked at his cards and realised he’d be taking the trick with the queen of spades.

“That’s a conversation I’d want to have, ‘Excuse me, Captain, I couldn’t help but notice that we’re both raging homos, do you know where the underground gay bars are?’” 

Everyone broke into fits of laughter and Marian snorted into her tea. “Oh that’s a good way to get sacked a month into the job, Tom. Trust me, my sister does _not_ need to go to a gay bar to pick up women. She just needs to walk down the bloody street.”

“Oh, to be able to pick up bears on the street,” Tom sighed wistfully, playing a heart after Joe’s lead. “I think if I tried that here I’d soon be victim of a hate crime. Maybe I’ll ask Tib when they’re here next week.”

Rachel cackled, “Oh Tib will _definitely_ know where _every_ underground bar is.” She threw down her last card and Joe swore loudly, taking that trick as well.

“Speaking of Tib, you ever think it’s weird that both of our captains are butch lesbians?” Tom asked as everyone counted up their points.

“Not really,” shrugged Rachel, tallying the scores on a bit of paper. “Lesbians love old boats. What’s weird is that there aren’t more of them. All right, Joe! The first round’s on you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, I had to drag this chapter out kicking and screaming. But somehow it ended up being my longest yet? I went back and forth over cutting the crew bit, but that got me out of a slump, and I had fun with them. I love headcanoning Beech as gay, not only because the actor is, but because it makes his reaction to Eugénie in the show so much funnier.
> 
> I think I may skip ahead a bit from here now we’re through the courtship phase. Go on some sailing adventures. If you have any ideas or requests, let me know and I may try to work them in! (No promises, though!)
> 
> And look out for my Valentine’s Day special tomorrow! I got a bit ummm carried away. It’s still set in this universe, after the Christmas special, so the winter after this story takes place (late summer), but is also standalone.


	11. Why’ve you gone and renamed everything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re going to go sailing from Ann’s pov so I don’t get too obnoxious with terminology. You’re welcome.

Anne and Ann fell into an easy routine. If Ann didn’t have much going on for work during the week (which was often, since she didn’t technically _have_ to work), she would come by the _Shibden_ and join them on their evening sails. Then she would either spend the night aboard, or the captain would accompany her back to her flat. The latter was more common, since Ann’s flat was more private, heated, and all around more comfortable than the _Shibden_. Hemingway counted her blessings.

The crew grew fond of Ann, the magical woman who seemed to have pulled the thorn from their captain’s paw. They couldn’t deny that Captain Lister was a lot softer when Ann was around. Sure, she still barked at them occasionally, but far less frequently than usual and most often when it was deserved. Ann was kind and generous. She chatted with the crew during sails and seemed genuinely interested in their lives. She had secured them the current coffee blends and even more varieties of tea, which was a nice treat, and sometimes she brought in pastries from the café, a sure way to a sailor’s (and the cook’s) heart. 

The summer was winding down. The days were becoming chillier and breezier, the first few leaves on the trees beginning to turn. The _Shibden_ crew were preparing for the last overnight voyage of the season: topping off the freshwater tanks, filling up on fuel, stowing the last of the provisions, and tidying passenger accommodations. The captain had created a voyage plan, meticulously planning out their route on all of the necessary charts.

That evening, before the voyage, Anne and Ann were lounging on Ann’s sofa drinking tea. Anne was splayed out on one end, her long legs stretching out in front of her, Ann leaning back against the opposite arm, her legs in Anne’s lap. 

“Bulkhead.”

“Oh! Erm, wall!”

“Very good, darling. Ladder.”

“Stairs.”

“Sole.”

Ann’s brow furrowed, “Er…”

“Sole is the floor, darling. But only belowdecks. On deck it’s, well, the deck. Here’s a tricky one: ceiling.”

“The… ceiling?” Ann said tentatively.

Anne chuckled. “The ceiling is actually the inner-hull planking. Bulkheads are added partitions, while the ceiling would make up the ‘walls’ where the hull is. What you’d call the ceiling is the overhead.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous, dearest, why’ve you gone and renamed everything?”

Anne barked out a laugh, giving Ann’s leg a squeeze. “These terms are centuries old, my love. Isn’t that incredible? It’s boats like the _Shibden_ that help keep these traditions alive.”

“Well, as long as they make you happy.” Ann took a sip of her tea. “Do I really have to know all of these?”

“It’ll help. I’m so glad you’re coming on this overnight, my darling. I don’t think I could bear four days without you.”

“Hmm,” Ann hummed, tracing her foot up Anne’s thigh and grinning at her mischievously. “I am, too. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“You understand I will be working?” Anne raised a brow. “I can’t be getting…” she trailed her gaze slowly up Ann’s body, “distracted.”

Ann nudged her playfully with her foot. “Well if you do it’ll be your own damn fault!”

Anne chuckled. “You’re probably right. But really, there will be no privacy. I’ll have to keep my door ajar, and the watch officers will be waking me up all hours of the day and night. You’re sure that’s all right?”

“It really does sound exciting, dearest,” Ann nodded. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in your element for more than a few hours.”

Anne scoffed. “If by that you mean a grumpy, sleep-deprived captain who downs buckets of coffee and shouts at deckhands for waking her up and officers for _not_ waking her up when they should have, well, I’m glad that does it for you, my love.”

Ann laughed. “Surely it’s not that bad! Didn’t you also talk about dolphins and sunrises and the sound of the water rushing past the hull?”

“Mmm,” Anne hummed, “yes, that as well.”

~

Anne and Ann had found themselves in bed, once pyjama-clad, though now without shirts as Anne trailed her lips down from Ann’s throat to her breast.

“What if I get sick?” Ann asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” Anne mumbled distractedly from around her nipple.

“What happens if I get seasick?” Ann persisted.

Anne gave her a look as if to say, _Really? Right now?_ but replied, “I’ll make sure you take medication tomorrow morning—I will be as well—and if you still get sick, well, I’ll take care of you.” She gave a reassuring smile.

“Right, ok, thank you dearest,” Ann nodded, smiling, and Anne continued kissing down her body, pulling off her sleep shorts and dragging her lips up her leg. “What if I fall overboard?”

Anne let out an exasperated sigh, resting her head on Ann’s thigh. “Darling, this may be the last chance we get to shag for _four days_.”

“Right, right, of course, I’m sorry. Carry on,” she smiled apologetically, running a hand through Anne’s hair.

Anne chuckled, giving a light nip to her inner thigh before burying her face in Ann’s centre.

Ann let her mind relax as Anne’s warm tongue circled her clit. She still had questions swirling around in her head, but determined not to ruin the moment any further. She instead focused on the feeling of Anne’s head between her thighs, her hair tangled in her fingers, her strong hands gripping her hips, and the way her tongue lapped at _just_ the right spot. The warm waters of her release built slowly within her. But then she thought about water…

“But what _if_ I fall overboard?”

Anne groaned. She crawled back up Ann’s body to look her squarely in the eye. “If you fall overboard, we will go get you. But you won’t. Now,” she growled, “it appears I’m not doing a good enough job distracting you,” and she crashed their lips together, swallowing Ann’s cry of surprise in a searing kiss, tongues sliding together, while her hand moved down to her core, roughly pushing two fingers inside of her.

Ann moaned at the intrusion, mind cleared of any lingering concerns as Anne’s fingers curled inside her, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, her thumb brushing her clit, her teeth nipping at her lip and then her neck.

Ann bucked her hips to meet Anne’s thrusts, whimpers falling from her lips, her hands clawing at Anne’s back then tightly grasping the bedding as her climax rapidly approached. It didn’t take many more of Anne’s rough thrusts before she shattered, hot pleasure spreading through her body. 

Anne continued to slowly stroke her through her release. At last, she relaxed, slumping in the bed, mind thoroughly wiped.

“Well, was that distracting enough?” Anne asked, a cocky grin on her face.

Ann chuckled, still catching her breath. “Yes, yes, you’re very good at that, as you well know.” She reached for the waistband of Anne’s boxers, pushing them over her hips.

Anne hummed smugly, helping to discard her pants before Ann reached for her, quickly gathering her wetness and circling her swollen clit. Anne groaned, grinding her hips into Ann’s hand. 

Ann adored being the one to cause the normally strong and stoic captain to lose control. She’d gotten quite good at it, too, if she did say so herself. She flicked the spot she knew drove Anne wild, and Anne led out a loud moan, her hips jerking erratically. 

Another few rapid flicks and Anne shuddered over her, a low groan escaping her throat, her body seizing. Ann eased her through with gentler strokes until Anne collapsed on top of her, panting into her shoulder. 

They recovered, found their strewn pyjamas, then cuddled back up, comfortably spooned with Ann’s back to Anne’s front.

~

The day of the overnight had arrived, and Ann was positively buzzing with excitement. She and Anne walked hand-in-hand from her flat down to the _Shibden_ in the morning after a quick coffee and breakfast at the café. Ann was wearing jeans, layered shirts, a flannel, and comfortable trainers (as recommended by the captain), her hair done in a braid. Anne had helped her pack, all of the suggested items safe in her pink duffel, which Anne carried easily over her shoulder. Anne was in her crisp captain’s uniform: _Shibden_ button-down, black chinos, and black Blundstones.

Ann stood off to the side with her bag while the captain mustered the crew. She couldn't help but notice how strong and powerful Anne appeared while she commanded her crew’s attention. She normally stood tall, with impeccable posture, but while addressing her crew she somehow stood even taller, her voice louder, deeper. An imposing presence, indeed. And _extremely hot_ , Ann thought.

After muster, when the crew had scattered to accomplish morning chores _(soles and bowls_ , Ann reminded herself), the captain guided her to her cabin to drop off her bag.

“Oh, Anne,” Ann said as she entered the cabin. Anne had cleared one of the shelves above her desk and freed up two of the hooks on the wall— _bulkhead_. It may not have seemed like much, but Ann knew it meant a lot. “You didn’t have to do all that.” She wondered where all of Anne’s books _had_ gone. She had a sneaking suspicion they were under the bed.

“Nonsense!” Anne declared, dropping Ann’s duffel to the bunk. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible, which I’m afraid won’t be very.”

“Oh, you,” Ann clicked her tongue. “You know if you keep talking this down it’s only going to exceed expectations.”

“Perfect,” Anne smiled, leaning down to give Ann a peck on the lips. “Now, I have to check all the nav. equipment. The rest of the passengers should be arriving in about an hour. Will you be all right if I leave you to settle in?”

Ann nodded, smiling, and pulled Anne in for another quick kiss.

Anne smirked as they pulled apart, gave Ann’s hand a light squeeze, then exited the cabin to putter about the pilot house.

Ann turned to the bunk and unzipped her bag. She pulled out her yellow wellies and set them next to Anne’s larger, black boots under the bunk. She rather liked how they looked next to each other, so distinctly contrasting. She next hung up her jackets and puffer on the hooks. Anne had warned her that it was a great deal colder at sea than on land, and to bring ample layers.

She pulled out her kindle and watercolours. She didn’t imagine she’d have time or desire to read, but Anne insisted that she bring at least _one_ book. Those along with a washbag of toothbrush, medication, and other bathroom sundries, she placed on the shelf. All that remained in the duffel were more clothes to layer and underwear, so she tucked the bag neatly under the bunk next to Anne’s scuffed and worn canvas seabag. She peered under the bunk and could indeed see a pile of books shoved into the back corner.

As settled in as she could be, Ann emerged from the cabin to find the captain fiddling with the knobs on what looked like a small, old-fashioned television. She approached from behind, placing her hand on the small of Anne’s back and peering over her shoulder.

“Hello, darling, all unpacked?” Anne asked, giving her a quick glance and a smile before continuing with whatever she was doing.

“Mmmhmm,” Ann nodded. “What’re you doing?”

“Ah, just making sure the radar is working. See this?” She pointed to a large green blob. “That’s the shore, with all the buildings and hills. This,” she pointed then at some more green blobs, smaller and scattered about, “is the anchorage. And here,” another green blob, this one long and thin with a small gap in the middle, “is the entrance to the harbour.”

“They all look like green blobs to me,” Ann observed.

Anne chuckled. “Indeed. The trick is telling them apart.”

“Well, I’m glad you can. Do you mind if I wander a bit?”

“Of course not, my love,” Anne smiled. “Help yourself to tea or coffee in the galley, if you’d like.”

“Mm, thank you.” Ann reached up on her tip-toes to press a light kiss to Anne’s cheek. She gave her shoulder a squeeze before going on deck. 

The crew were scurrying about, doing God-knows-what, some carrying pillows, others fussing with the sails. Ann gave Argus—dozing near the ramp—a pet before descending the ladder to the galley, the only place other than the pilot house she felt comfortable entering on her own.

“Good morning, Beth,” she said to Cordingly, who was stirring something in the biggest pot she’d ever seen, “how’re you?”

“Oh, good morning, Miss Walker. I’m busy but excited, you know? How about yourself? Getting settled in all right?” she replied over her shoulder.

“Yes, thank you. Also excited. Is there hot water by any chance?”

“Of course, love, the kettle’s just boiled.”

Beth lifted the kettle from the hob, and Ann pulled a mug from the _bulkhead_ and a Yorkshire tea bag from the box on the shelf that housed a truly impressive selection of teas (including Crow Nest’s, which, despite the familial ties, could not compete with a classic Yorkshire brew). She accepted the steaming water from Beth with a polite nod and a quiet, “thank you.” 

Ann retrieved the milk from the fridge— _reefer_ (honestly, that one was just a different shortening of the same word)—and added a splash to her mug.

She cupped the warm mug in her hands and carefully ascended the ladder. She sat down on a deck box near the pilot house, sipping her tea and watching the crew work. Occasionally one of them would pass by and greet her with a polite smile and a “Morning, Miss Walker.”

Eventually, the captain emerged from the pilot house. She spotted Ann and approached, greeting her with a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“Doing all right, my love?”

Ann nodded, “Yes, thank you, dearest.”

“The passengers should be arriving any minute now,” she said, squinting at the pier. “Ah! There they are.”

A small group of half a dozen people were awkwardly making their way down the pier, laden with rather a lot of luggage. Ann was by no means a light packer, but having Anne to tell her what she’d need certainly helped, and these people didn’t have that benefit. Some of them looked as if they were going on a month’s holiday rather than a long weekend.

“Boarding stations!” the captain barked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brits let me know if I fucked up the tea process. Though I stand by a stovetop kettle for a boat, as electric kettles use a lot of power and would require a generator running if not hooked up to shore power.
> 
> All right pals, I am negotiating a possible boat job (!!!), which means I also have to negotiate moving and being a bit busier than I have been, so while I’m still going to try to get chapters out once a week, I may be a bit late, which I hope you’ll excuse me for.


	12. Quite the Deckhand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more characters in this story? Yes. Too many. I waffled between using characters already in the GJ universe and OCs, but passengers on an overnight boat cruise tend to be fairly wealthy and EVERYONE who has money in the show is related to Ann. So OCs it is. Don’t worry too much about keeping track of the newcomers, they’re rather inconsequential.

The crew converged on the gangway, shooing Argus into the pilot house and spacing themselves strategically to help the guests aboard. The captain strode onto the dock to greet them, shaking each of their hands and welcoming them aboard. Ann kept out of the way, eyeing each of the passengers as they stepped on board. 

There was an older man and a spotty teen (presumably his grandson), two young-ish men in their late thirties who looked like they were probably accountants or some other sort of steady office-working types, and a young “adventurous” looking straight couple. (In the sense that they looked like they could afford to go skydiving and did so frequently, dressed entirely in Patagonia.)

The captain’s customer service charm was fully “on” as she addressed the guests once they were all aboard, a dazzling smile filling her face, though Ann could detect a hint of annoyance behind her eyes.

“Now, Hemingway here will show you where you’ll be sleeping and where you can stow your gear. There will be time to unpack and settle in later, for now you can put your gear away and then meet back here for introductions and a safety brief.”

Rachel instructed them on how to safely descend the ladder and led the group down the galley companionway, where they would be staying in a small cabin off of the galley that held six bunks.

The crew shuffled to stand in a semi-circle on deck in order of rank. Beth emerged from the galley once the guests had cleared the ladder, wiping her flour-coated hands on her apron, and joined the group. They chatted quietly with one another while they waited, and Ann walked over to stand next to Anne, who was fidgeting and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You all right, dearest?” Ann asked, placing her hand on Anne’s arm.

Anne stilled and shook her head, then smiled at Ann. “It’s nothing, darling. Just… the usual clientele we get. One is sure to be a know-all, and I can already feel complaints coming from that young couple.”

Ann hummed, giving Anne’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Well, let’s give them a chance, yeah?”

“Hmm,” Anne nodded.

One by one, the guests returned to deck, and Ann took a tentative step away from Anne, unsure about letting her relationship with the captain be public knowledge.

Once they had all returned and filled in the circle the crew had started, Captain Lister addressed them again, “Right, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. As I said before, I’m Captain Anne Lister, and I’ve been the full-time captain of the _Shibden_ for sixteen years.” She then nodded at Washington, who went next.

“Hi there, Sam Washington, I’m the First Officer and the leader of Alpha Watch.”

John next, “How do, I’m John Booth, Second Officer, mechanic, and leader of Bravo Watch.”

Then Marian, “Hello, I’m Marian Lister, Third Officer, and leader of Charlie Watch.”

Beth, “Hi everyone, I’m Beth Cordingly, your cook. If you have any dietary preferences other than what was noted on your paperwork, please let me know after this and I’ll get you sorted.”

And the deckhands, “Hi, we’ve already met, but I’m Rachel Hemingway, senior deckhand.”

“Hiya, Joe Booth, deckhand.”

“‘Allo, Eugénie Pierre, deckhand.”

“Hello, I’m Tom Beech, deckhand.”

The older man went next, “Hello everyone, my name’s Jim, retired Royal Navy Petty Officer. My grandson, Charlie here, is in scouts, so I thought this would be a fun activity for him, get him to practice his knots.”

The teen’s face turned scarlet, and he spoke in the awkward tone of a boy who was still becoming accustomed to a low voice, “Hi, yeah, I’m Charlie, I’m, erm, in school and, yeah, scouts.”

“Hello,” the man of the glittering couple flashed a smile, all blinding white teeth, “I’m Peter and this is my wife Shannon,” the woman had an arm around his waist, smiling, but saying nothing. “We own a local tour agency and wanted to try this out to possibly recommend to our clients.”

Ann heard Anne swear under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“They didn’t mention that detail in their paperwork,” Anne muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“Hi, I’m Chris,” one of the young-ish men said next. Even Ann had to concede that this man was attractive. More so than the couple, who were attractive, but in a fake way. Chris had dark hair, a strong jaw under a trim beard, and warm eyes. He had the physique of a rugged lumberjack. Ann noticed Tom—who was almost directly across the circle from her—tugging at his collar quite a bit as he spoke. “I’m a veterinarian, and just thought this looked like fun. Hoping to see some wildlife out there.”

And the last man, “Hullo, I’m Mark. I work with Chris. He told me about this and I used to go sailing with my dad as a boy, so wanted to give it a go again.”

He smiled and turned to Ann, who flustered, forgetting for a moment that she was a participant and not just a spectator for this event.

“Erm, hello, I’m Ann. I, er, work at Crow Nest Coffee.” She looked nervously at Anne, unsure if she should say more, but Anne smiled at her reassuringly and clapped her hands, turning back to the group.

“Right! Now we know a bit about one another, I’ll have Washington here explain what’s to be expected for this voyage.”

Sam cleared his throat. “We’ll be getting underway and setting sail right after this little meeting. You’ll be divided into watches with the crew, purely for scheduling and safety purposes. If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to join the crew on watch. You can see how we operate the boat while underway for several days. Of course, you don’t have to. Feel free to relax and enjoy the ride, but if that sounds like something you’re interested in, just let me know and I’ll make sure the crew includes you in their watch duties. Otherwise, you’ll be eating meals with your watch, as there isn’t enough room in the galley for everyone to eat at the same time.

“So!” Sam pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket and read from it, “Peter and Shannon,” he looked up at the couple, “you’ll be on Alpha Watch with myself and Eugénie. Chris and Mark,” he turned to the two men, “you’re on Bravo Watch with John and Tom,” Tom ever-so-subtly clenched his fist in triumph, “and that leaves Jim, Charlie, and Ann Walker on Charlie watch with Marian and Rachel.”

“Charlie Watch for Charlie!” Jim grinned, nudging his grandson excitedly, who only glowered.

Sam chuckled. “That’s right. Now, Marian is going to go over some safety information for you all.”

Marian stepped forward, holding a life jacket. She demonstrated how to put it on and pointed out where they were located. 

“In the case of an emergency, you’ll hear the sound of the general alarm,” she signaled to Sam, who had snuck back to the quarterdeck to trigger the alarm. A high pitched ringing bell filled the air for a few seconds before silencing. Sam returned to the group. “If you hear that,” Marian continued, “come up on deck immediately, put on a life jacket, and the crew will instruct you further. In an emergency, stay with your watch group so we can keep track of where everyone is, unless you’re told otherwise. 

“If anyone falls overboard, shout ‘man overboard’—and that especially includes the person who fell, don’t be so embarrassed that we don’t know you’ve fallen, because then we’ll never find you—and then everyone point at that person until they’re back on board. We, the crew, will deal with getting them back. And, I know it’s hard, but if your family member falls over, _do not jump after them_. It only makes it more difficult for us to retrieve two people in the water.

“Does anyone have any questions relating to safety?”

A general murmur in the negative came from the assembled group, and Anne straightened to address them again.

“Right, if no one has any questions…” the captain looked around at heads shaking ‘no,’ “Let’s get underway.”

She nodded at Washington, who then shouted, “Hands to docklines!”

The crew scattered to man their lines, leaving the passengers to watch with curiosity as they worked. 

Ann followed the captain back to the quarterdeck, where she hoisted herself up to sit on the wheel box. She’d come to like this perch. It was conveniently out of the way of the crew, she could see everything that was going on from there, and she was close to Anne.

Anne started the engine, checked for exhaust water over the side, and called for the lines to be cast, handling the throttle and helm with practiced ease.

Once they had gotten away from the dock and were chugging through the harbour, Ann asked, “Can I do the watch thing?”

“Really?” Anne turned to her, looking surprised.

Ann nodded, grinning.

“Well, I mean, of course, if you’d like to,” Anne said as she turned the helm, guiding them toward the harbour entrance. “You can change to a better one. Marian’s got the worst, being the lowest ranking officer. Twelve-to-four, that’s the afternoon as well as midnight to four in the morning.”

“Oh, no, I actually like the way that one sounds,” Ann replied.

“Really? Why?” Anne’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well, I don’t really like getting up early. As you know.”

Anne chuckled. “Yes.”

“And, well, you said that one’s best for the stars, right? And if it’s also in the afternoon, I’ll be awake then anyway. Plus,” Ann smiled, biting her lip, “it’ll be fun to gossip with Marian about you.”

Anne’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

Ann giggled, “I’m joking.” Anne’s shoulders relaxed, “Well, maybe not.”

“Ann!”

Ann grinned at her deviously, nudging the captain’s shoulder with her own.

Anne sighed. “Very well, if that’s what you want. You can change your mind any time, if you find you don’t like it, just let Marian know.”

“Mmhmm,” Ann nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Anne’s upper arm. “Thank you, dearest.”

Anne smiled back at her. “It’s about time to set the sails, if you want to help.” She nodded at Washington, who then walked forward to start issuing commands for sail set.

“Oh, yes!” Ann slid off of the wheel box and scampered forward, Anne smiling after her.

It had taken some goading from the crew (mostly Marian, who was the only one not afraid of the captain enough to talk with her in the beginning), but after a few times out on the _Shibden_ Ann had joined in with the crew to help set the sails, and she found she quite liked it. It was hard, but after learning the proper technique (thumbs forward, knees bent, haul together), she’d discovered it was a fairly enjoyable type of exercise, which wasn’t something she could say about most other types of exercise she’d tried.

Plus, she could see the fruits of her labour in real time. Every tug on the line brought the sail up higher, and when they were all fully set, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment washed over her. _She_ had done that. She and the rest of the crew. They had done that _together_. It was exhilarating. 

She remembered when she had excitedly showed Anne her first callous a couple weeks ago, a small thickened piece of skin on her right palm, just below her middle finger. Anne had laughed at her enthusiasm, but kissed her palm, pulled her into a hug. She’d felt warm, and safe. 

And so Ann jumped in. She stood behind Eugénie, grasping the heavy line, worn smooth with use, the _main peak halyard_ , she reminded herself. She was even getting better at knowing where to go when Washington called for certain sails. She still couldn’t pick out the correct line on the pin rail—she left that intricacy to the crew—but at least she knew that if she stood _here_ and pulled on _this_ line the crew had readied, it would hoist up _this_ part of _that_ sail.

Washington called to haul away, and she hauled on the line in time with the crew, hand-over-hand, knees slightly bent, digging her feet into the deck and using her legs for the last heavy bit at the end. 

Washington cried, “That’s well!” and Rachel, at the head of the peak halyard, called “Easy up!” at which they shuffled forward, line still clasped in their hands, until it was secured, and then Rachel said “Up behind!” which meant to drop the line, and they let go, letting the heavy line fall to the deck with a dull _thud_.

Ann looked up at the sail stretched taught above her, shading her from the mid-morning sun, satisfaction filling her body. But then Washington called for the next sail, and she scurried with the rest of the crew to man the appropriate lines.

Soon, all of the _Shibden_ ’s sails were fully set, driving her in the light morning breeze further out to sea, the details of the shore growing smaller and smaller with each passing moment. With the engine secured, the crew rapidly coiled down the mess of lines strewn all over the deck while the passengers watched in wonder, the only sound the waves splashing against the hull.

Ann returned to the quarterdeck, face flushed from the effort of setting sail, and a beaming smile lighting up her face.

“You’re becoming quite the deckhand, my love,” Anne praised as she approached, smiling at her with pride.

“Thank you,” Ann grinned, hoisting herself back up on the wheel box, “I really enjoy it.”

“I’m glad,” Anne returned, the barest hint of emotion visible on her face. She cleared her throat. “We’ll be breaking into watches in a moment. John will be taking this first one, then you’ll be on with Marian after that. Lunch for you will be in,” she checked her watch, “thirty-four minutes.”

Ann giggled. “So specific,” she said cheekily.

“One must be precise,” Anne said. “You don’t want to be late for watch.”

Ann hummed, leaning in close so her lips brushed Anne’s ear, “What happens if I am?”

Anne visibly gulped. “Ann,” she said warningly, “don’t you start anything.”

“What?” Ann asked innocently, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I just want to know what’ll happen if I’m late for watch.”

Anne’s knuckles on the spoke of the wheel were white. “You’ll be… reprimanded.”

“Oh?” Ann let her fingers wander up Anne’s arm, enjoying watching her squirm. “How?” 

But before the captain could positively combust, John and Tom had appeared on the quarterdeck.

“Hello, Captain,” Tom greeted, pointedly ignoring how the two shot apart at his approach, “I’m here to relieve you at the helm, what’s your ordered course?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, I am planning a little side romance with Tom and the vet. I am 100% stealing Dino Fetscher’s actual boyfriend for this, because, _god_ , have you seen his ig? I may be gay, but that man is a hunk. _And holding puppies??_ Jesus.


End file.
